King of Dae
by SinSlash
Summary: Harry has always had a connection with Darkness, but he never thought he’d become its King. Now his underlings are being hunted in America and Harry goes there personally to investigate. Slash. Sam/Harry/Dean.
1. Birth of a King

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Supernatural._

_A/N: _Oh, my god. You guys have NO idea how excited I am to be releasing this story. I'm basically a newcomer to Supernatural, and am only just now nearing the end of season 1. However, I've been reading the crossovers and as a result spoiled myself to hell on a lot of things. Hopefully my newness doesn't hurt anything.

**Warnings:** This story is rated M for a reason, mostly for future slash and how I screw around with religion. If any of these things offend you, I'm sorry but this story isn't for you.

Now then, I have big plans for this story but it will be a while before the plot finally gets rolling! Also, I'm kind of on the fence on the pairing, but right now I'm toying around with Sam/Harry/Dean. I'm a little squicky about incest, but I honestly want BOTH brothers to be with Harry! Oh well... only time will tell.

This chapter has been beta'd by **StarAngel Caelum SunSoar**! Lots of love to them~!

I hope you all like this chapter and don't be afraid to leave a review telling me what you think!

**o0o**

Harry always had an affinity with darkness, but he had never thought anything of it. As a child, in the pitch-blackness of the cupboard under the stairs, darkness was his only companion for days at a time, and Harry naturally grew to love it.

When in the darkness he was invisible—his whale of an uncle left him alone and his giraffe-necked aunt seemed so far away. In the darkness, Dudley and his gang couldn't find and hurt him. And when he came to the wizarding world, in the darkness, he was just Harry.

Even so, Harry had never expected _this_.

"Excuse me," Harry said, shaking his head in confusion, "but _what_?"

Harry was in a dream world at the deserted King Cross Station. Behind him stood Dumbledore, his expression a look of horror; off to a corner under a bench was the pitiful fragment of Voldemort's soul; before him was the man spouting nonsense—the self proclaimed "King of Dae".

The "King" was an otherworldly being hard to describe in words. He was over seven feet tall and his skin was a deep earthy color that seemed to exude a multicolored vapor. He was naked, but there was nothing that gave him a definite gender. Still, Harry could say they were male by the sound of the voice: a deep guttural noise that was both frightening and soothing. The man's eyes were pure black, but they shined with a light that was wholly unnatural, and perched atop his head were two small horns that curved slightly. All in all, the man looked like some sort of devil . . . or demon. The thought had Harry instantly alert.

Harry and Dumbledore had been talking about what had just happened when Harry was 'killed', and then from deep within the mist they began to hear footsteps. Harry had looked to Dumbledore in confusion, but the wizened old wizard appeared just as confused as Harry was.

From within the mist, Harry could make out a tall figure. When they spoke, there was no beating around the bush. His words were deep and to the point.

"Greetings. I am the King of Dae, Daekin," the person said, stepping out of the mist, allowing Harry and Dumbledore their first look of the man—or rather, creature. At first glance it was clear that they were not human.

Harry eyed the new arrival critically. Dumbledore released a startled breath, causing Harry's stare to zero in on him instantly.

Dumbledore was shaking, his lower lip trembling so badly that it sent a ripple down his beard. Weakly, Dumbledore repeated, "K-King of… Dae…"

"Professor? What's wrong?" Harry asked in hesitation. The only other time he had seen Dumbledore behaving like this was when he had drank that ghastly potion in his sixth year. Simply remembering it brought about a hollow feeling in Harry's stomach.

"Harry Potter," the man-creature-thing said, drawing Harry's attention. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you face to face."

Harry remained quiet, again on high alert. From the way the headmaster was reacting, there was no way this man could be any good.

"I wish I could say the same," Harry muttered.

The things pitch-black lips twitched upward slightly.

Finally gaining his composer, Dumbledore took a bold step forward, half-hiding Harry from the creature's sights. The black eyes snapped toward him, causing the old wizard to once more shiver visibly.

"Daekin," Dumbledore whispered thinly, although there was a hint of power in his voice, "what are you doing here? This . . . this cannot be. You were killed eons ago!"

This time, the things—Daekin's—lips bloomed into a full smile. "That is correct. I gave my life to punish the ones who sought to destroy me. To this day they still suffer for their crimes, but I? I have finally been reborn."

Daekin's eyes slid to Harry as he finished speaking, and Dumbledore's did as well. Watching the two interact with narrowed eyes, Harry noticed instantly when the headmaster's eyes flashed with understanding. As quickly as it came, all light seemed to leave the old wizard's eyes and he crumbled to his knees weakly, appearing to be just a feeble old man.

Harry was at his side swiftly, calling Dumbledore's name futilely. The old man just continued to stare ahead blankly, not moving.

"What did you do to him?" Harry snarled, turning his heated stare to Daekin.

The man-creature was staring at Dumbledore in pity. "I have done nothing. He has simply realized the enormity of the destiny you hold, and his feeble old mind cannot take it."

"Don't talk about him like that," Harry growled, standing to his feet angrily. Daekin was staring at him once again, and it took all of Harry's willpower not to flinch.

"You still do not understand," Daekin said sadly. "You have not embraced the link you have with Darkness."

"My link with darkness?" Harry eyed the softly whimpering baby out of the corner of his eye.

"I do not mean Voldemort," Daekin said with a dismissive wave of a clawed hand. "I mean the very essence of Darkness itself. You have walked the path of Light up till now, but in doing so, you have forsaken Darkness. Without Darkness there cannot be Light, and you Harry Potter . . . are Darkness."

Harry grimaced bitterly, not understanding anything that was coming out of the other's mouth. Harry was Darkness? He walked the path of Light? Okay, maybe _that_ part Harry could understand, but the rest made no sense.

"I'm not a dark wizard, nor do I ever plan to be if that's what you're getting at."

A look of frustration rose to Daekin's face. His eyes were trained fully on Dumbledore who had started to shake lightly, still staring ahead.

"The headmaster has . . . changed you. He has turned you away from your natural path in life."

Growling, Harry took a purposeful step forward. "I'll admit that maybe Dumbledore manipulated a little too much of my life, but it was for the _greater good_!"

Daekin froze unnaturally, and even Harry stilled when he heard what had come out of his own mouth. It was for . . . the greater good? Bloody hell, when had he become Dumbledore? In his fear of becoming too much like Voldemort, had he instead strived to become like Dumbledore instead?

"Harry, you cannot walk the path of Light."

That snapped Harry from his daze. While he didn't want to be a clone of Dumbledore, that didn't mean he was going to become the next Dark Lord either.

"And why the bloody hell not?"

"Because," Daekin growled, "you are the new King of Dae!"

Harry paused, a look of confusion settling across his face once more. "What? Didn't you say _you_ were the King of Days or whatever?"

Daekin nodded, but didn't elaborate. Huffing, Harry demanded angrily, "So how the hell am _I _the king?"

A sad look settled onto the man's demon-like face. "Harry . . . you and I are one and the same. You are my reincarnation."

"W-What?" Harry choked, stumbling back and almost falling over Dumbledore who moaned pitifully. "I'm your . . .? . . .Huh? _What_?"

Even though Harry didn't want to believe it, something inside of him that he couldn't put his finger on _knew_ it to be true. It resonated with Daekin – humming in familiarity. Still, that did nothing for Harry's brain which rejected the idea vehemently.

Whatever Daekin was, he was obviously dark, and for Harry to be his reincarnation . . . That was just something that Harry couldn't allow.

"That's . . . that's a lie," Harry stammered.

"Listen to your soul," Daekin suggested gently. "It is the same soul that I possess. I would never lie to you, to _myself_. You are my reincarnation, and thus, you are the new King of Dae."

"Y-You're not me," Harry again denied, latching onto what Daekin said desperately. "You look nothing _like_ me! You're not even human!"

Daekin inclined his head. "Though we share different bodies of flesh, the thing that matters most—our souls—are one and the same."

Still seeing Harry's reluctance to accept what he said, Daekin asked, "What is it that so repels you from the idea of sharing my soul? Is it because I am not human? Is it because you know nothing of me? Is it because I am _Dark_?"

Daekin almost hissed the word 'dark', and as expected, Harry winced violently.

"I see," Daekin said simply. "Dumbledore has conditioned you against all things not of the Light. But search inside yourself, Harry. Remember. When has the Dark ever harmed you?"

"Voldemort," Harry snapped immediately.

Once more, Daekin waved his had dismissively. "Tom Riddle is naught but one man, and from birth, the son of man is a being of the Light."

Frowning, Harry thought hard. When else had something dark tried to hurt him . . .? A certain time in his third year leaped to the forefront of his mind and Harry pounced onto it.

"Third year! Dementors! They attacked me! How do you explain that?"

"Ah, that." Daekin shook his head. "They were merely trying to help you in the only way they knew how."

Harry gaped at the audacity of the man who had the nerve to say that Dementors wanted to _help_ him. That was like saying Voldemort _just _wanted world peace. It didn't make any sense!

"Help me?" Harry asked incredulously, his temper rising fast. "_Help_ me? Oh, because it would be _so_ helpful if I didn't have a soul! What's that, Dementor? You want to kiss my godfather? Well go right the bloody hell on!"

Daekin merely watched impassively as Harry fumed. By the end of his tirade, Harry's shoulders were shaking and his breaths were leaving him in short gasps.

"Did the Dementors know Sirius Black was innocent? Did they know that he would not harm you?"

The question gave Harry pause, but it didn't explain the rest of the times he was attacked.

"I will admit, the Dementors aren't the . . . smartest bunch." Daekin gave a small smile when Harry snorted. "However, I do truly believe they wished to help you in the only way they knew—by extracting the soul of Tom Riddle which they felt inside of you."

Once more, Harry didn't know how to respond. Could that . . . could that really be possible? It would explain the twisted love they seemed to have for him, and explain why he got nearly kissed more than anyone at Hogwarts _combined_.

"Alright," Harry allowed eventually. "That _could_ be possible. But what about the giant spiders in the forbidden forest? They could talk, and they even admitted they wanted me to _stay for dinner_ if you know what I mean."

"Insect," Daekin said simply. At Harry's confused look, he elaborated, "Creature of Light."

Harry cursed violently. He was developing a bit of a potty mouth, but everything Daekin was telling him was shifting everything he knew on its very axis. If Daekin was to be believed, everything _wrong_ in his life was done by beings of the light side!

And then his mind flashed to Lupin. He was technically a creature of the dark, but he was one of the closest things Harry had to a family. Then there was what the hat had said to him in first year. He would do well in Slytherin—but because of all the horrid things he had heard said about dark wizards, he had wished vehemently to not be placed there.

As if a floodgate had been opened, Harry remembered back when he was just a child and he had gone on a rare shopping trip with his Aunt Petunia. In a small outlet mall, a man with eyes that flashed gold had suddenly bowed and whispered, "My liege."

Aunt Petunia had hurriedly dragged him away once she saw him, but thinking back on it, Harry knew instantly what that golden-eyed man was: a vampire.

Other such instances that Harry had merely brushed off as people being weird occurred to him—and bloody hell! Fenrir Greyback! During the battle for Hogwarts, Harry had run into Greyback, but the werewolf had simply pressed his forehead into the ground before running off.

Harry didn't know what it meant at the time, but now he did. Greyback had recognized whatever it was that was inside Harry . . . so he hadn't attacked.

This time, when Harry stumbled back, he tripped over Dumbledore's robes and landed on his arse, painfully. He was staring in Daekin's general direction, but he didn't _see_ him. He was still trying to free himself of the shock that was slowly consuming him.

He literally gasped out loud when Dumbledore suddenly jumped to his feet. Dumbledore narrowed his eyes in determination, his wand pointed toward Daekin.

Daekin eyed Dumbledore's wand pointedly. "What do you plan on doing with that, _son of man_?"

Dumbledore winced and his wand shook. "I cannot—no; I _will not_ allow you to have Harry!"

"Shouldn't it be I who says those words?" Daekin asked breezily. "Was it not you who manipulated Harry's life in such a way so that he would always follow the Light? And now that you know he is the King of Dae, you still seek to have him walk a path he does not belong to?"

The more Daekin spoke, the more Dumbledore shook. Finally, his wand fell from his limp hand, but he continued to hold his arm forward as if he had not noticed. "The people need a savior—someone to look up to. Harry—"

"Is not God!" Daekin shouted, losing his temper for the first time. "If the children of man should turn to someone, it should be God, not Harry—the new King of Dae. Even if Harry were a mere mortal like the rest of you, it is _not your place_ to dictate things in such a way."

Having been listening to the conversation from where he sat, Harry found himself growing more and more indignant. "And it's yours?" Harry jumped in, finally losing his patience as well.

Daekin turned to Harry in question as Harry stood to his feet.

"You said it's not his place to dictate people's lives, but aren't you the same? You keep telling me I'm the King of Dae, but what is that? Who are _you? _Are you God?" By the end of his speech, Harry was once again shouting, frustrated that his life was once more spiraling out of his control.

"No," Daekin said. "I am not God. I am his brother."

Harry's blood froze in his veins.

"What?" he managed to choke out. He looked to Dumbledore, but the man wouldn't meet his gaze. "You're God's brother? D-Don't mess with me . . ."

He tried to play it off as if he was being joked with, but the atmosphere was far from playful.

"I would not lie about something so serious," Daekin frowned.

"N-No way . . . First I'm the bloody Boy-Who-Lived . . . and now . . . now I'm the Reincarnation-Of-God's-Brother!"

Daekin chuckled and it became a full laughter when Harry glared at him.

"This isn't funny," Harry sulked.

"You are right," Daekin agreed, calming down. "I am sorry."

Harry snorted. God's freaking _brother_—it would take a while for Harry's brain to wrap itself around that—looked far from sorry.

Sighing, Harry stared off into the distant fog wondering what all of this meant. He had never been very religious, and when he was introduced to the wizarding world, all of the mysterious of life were easily answered.

Where did life come from? Magic.

What created the universe, the moon, and the stars? Magic.

Why was Dudley able to become so fat without simply exploding? Magic.

There was just no _need_ to believe in something like God when the answer to even the most difficult questions could be answered with just 'magic'. But to find out that God was real . . . and that he was the reincarnation of God's brother . . . It was all Harry could do not to have his brain shut down.

But . . . there was one thing Harry couldn't understand. You heard of God everywhere, yet not once had Harry ever heard of God having a _brother_.

"How come I've never heard of you?" Harry asked, peering at Daekin curiously.

"That is because you were raised as a being of Light. God is the protector of all things Light, so it is only natural that the children of man would worship only Him. I, however, am the King of Dae—the protector of all things Dark."

Harry's eyes were wide as saucers by the end of Daekin's explanation. "So you're the God of things like vampires and werewolves?"

Daekin nodded, appearing pleased that Harry was finally starting to understand.

"Unbelievable," Harry breathed in awe before once more it was wiped from his face. "Wait . . . if you are the God of Darkness . . . and I'm your reincarnation, making me the King of Dae, that means . . . that means . . . "

"Yes, Harry, you are now the protector of Darkness."

"Me?" Harry squeaked. "Why? I mean, why_ me_?"

"I have been waiting thousands of years for the one who would be worthy of continuing as the King of Dae . . . and you were chosen."

Harry felt light headed. If even _one_ more shock was dropped on him, he swore he would faint. It had already been an eventful evening: he found out he was a Horcrux, he died, he met God's brother, he found out _he_ was the reincarnation of said brother, and then he learned he was practically the God of Darkness.

It was a lot for one person to handle.

Once more a question rose to Harry's mind, and he wouldn't be able to fully accept this unless he rid himself of all his doubts.

"You're not . . . the devil are you?"

"No," Daekin said, a hint of a growl lacing his words. "The being that you constantly refer to as 'the devil' or 'Satan' is actually named Lucifer. As most seem to forget, he was an archangel—Light creatures created by my brother. He was the one who sought to dethrone me . . . and he was punished adequately for his transgressions."

Again, Harry's eyes were the size of dinner plates. It was so convenient to have an actual deity available to answer all of your religious questions.

Dumbledore was oddly quiet, and Harry's gaze swiveled over to him. The old headmaster was once more sitting on the ground; his head slumped in defeat.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry called hesitantly.

The old man met his eyes warily, the usual twinkle having faded from them long ago. "Yes, my boy?"

"I—Headmaster, I . . ."

"It's quite alright," Dumbledore sighed, running a hand through his long beard. "You cannot change who you are . . . and you are the new King of Dae."

To have even Dumbledore acknowledge it was what truly brought it home for Harry, and a full bodied shiver ran through him. Him . . .? The new King of Dae. It was unimaginable. After all his talk of wanting to be 'Just Harry', he was given an even _higher_ status than the Boy-Who-Lived.

He had gone from being revered as a god to actually _becoming _one. The irony was as laughable as it was painful.

"So . . . so what now?" Harry questioned weakly, turning to Daekin for answers. "I don't—I don't feel any different from how I've always felt."

"That is because our souls are only partially linked," Daekin explained. "Our souls were to fuse slowly over the course of your lifetime, and my powers and knowledge would be imparted unto you along with it. However, when you were naught but a small child, a tainted fragment of Tom Riddle's soul was added to ours, so I have spent the last decade keeping his soul from having any contact with ours."

Harry's eyes once more landed on the monstrosity of a baby off to the side of the station. "And now that he's out of the way . . .?"

"Our souls can finally become one."

Harry jerked unconsciously, wary of the idea of 'joining' with Daekin. "You said I would have gotten your knowledge . . . Will I still be myself?"

"Of course," Daekin said, smiling comfortingly. "Only my knowledge will be passed on to you, as if you had simply memorized a book. Naturally, you will also gain certain powers that are essential for you to have as my successor."

"O-okay," Harry breathed, nodding jerkily.

A line from the prophecy floated through Harry's head: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies . . . _

A hysterical laugh bubbled in his throat, but he crushed it down ruthlessly.

"Harry," Dumbledore called sadly, "are you sure you want to go through with this? You can still turn back."

One look at Daekin told him that 'turning back' would not be an option, and even if it was, Harry didn't think he could accept it. He knew it in his soul. This was his destiny.

Giving Dumbledore a Gryffindor smile, he took a step closer to Daekin. At that distance, he was able to faintly catch the other's scent. It was purely wild and untamed, something _dark_. A sardonic grin plastered itself onto Harry's face at the thought.

"I think I'm ready."

Daekin eyes him critically.

"Before we begin, I will give a final warning. Because of Tom Riddle's soul fragment, I was not able to merge my soul with yours gradually. As such, our mostly disconnected souls will become one instantaneously, causing you great pain."

Drawing in a deep breath and closing his eyes, Harry gathered all the courage he had. When he opened them, Daekin was staring back at him in what might have been concern. Grinning, Harry declared, "I can handle it."

A flash of a smile lighted Daekin's face before he nodded. "Very well. Simply place your palms against mine and I shall begin."

Daekin's bent his arms at the elbow, his palms level with his chest. Harry stared at the weirdly colored palms before hesitantly placing his hands against them.

As soon as he did, there was a feeling of _something_ latching onto something inside of him. With a jolt, Harry realized that it was the link tying his soul to Daekin's. Instead of frightening him, the link actually calmed him, helped him relax. It felt almost like pressing your palms against a mirror.

He finally understood. He and Daekin were indeed one and the same.

And then, the pain started.

Harry's eyes screwed shut and his mouth hung open as unimaginable pain racked his body. He had thought that he knew pain when he felt the Cruciatus curse, but what he was feeling now was so much _worse._ Cruciatus hurt him in the physical sense, but what he was going through now felt as if his very _being_ was being torn to shreds at an agonizingly slow pace.

No matter how much Harry pushed or pulled, he couldn't free his hands from Daekin's. His vision was beginning to darken and his throat was becoming sore from screams he hadn't even known he'd been releasing.

Just when Harry thought that he'd taken all he could take . . . that if the pain spiked even another notch, he'd literally die . . .

It did.

The pain became even _worse_, so intense that tears flowed from Harry's eyes without restraint. If he were able, he'd be thrashing about on the floor, banging his own head against anything solid in the hope that he would knock himself unconscious.

But no matter how high the pain spiked, no matter how far passed his threshold for pain they'd gone, Harry remained perfectly conscious.

And then the memories began to flood into him. Flashes of conversations that Harry had never had began assaulting his brain; places he'd never visited he could now give directions to perfectly; and things he'd never even imagined in his worst _nightmares_—he knew they were real, and that he was possibly the only thing holding them back from unparalleled bloodshed.

Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and blood trickled slowly down his nose.

Finally—blessedly, Daekin disconnected their hands and Harry slumped to the floor, unconscious.


	2. Loose Ends

_A/N:_ Wow, the reception for this story was much bigger than I thought it would be! It's actually a little intimidating cause I feel like I have to always do a little better each time.

Anyway, the pairing is now set in stone and will not change: The story shall be Sam/Harry and Dean/Harry, but no Sam/Dean. Meaning, the boys share Harry but basically stay away from each other. Hopefully this satisfies everyone, and if it doesn't... sorry!

Also, I should probably mention that you shouldn't except updates to always happen this quickly. I'm still on my 'new-story' high, so once I get farther along I'll start slowing down. I actually have this story outlined pretty far ahead, so hopefully I can avoid writing myself into a corner.

This chapter has been beta'd by **StarAngel Caelum SunSoar**

With that outta the way, all that's left to say is that I hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to leave a review telling me watcha think.

**o0o**

When Harry awoke, he expected his body to be crippled by pain in the aftereffects of whatever Daekin had done to him. Yet, as his eyes fluttered open, that was not the case. He felt… whole. Rejuvenated. Throughout his entire life the world had been covered by a thick fog and suddenly, it lifted.

Standing shakily to his feet, Harry frowned as his eyes tried to adjust to the world. Checking the ground for his glasses, he was shocked to find them on his face. When he removed them to clean them, he was in for yet another surprise. With the glasses off, he found that he saw the world as though he were wearing the best pair of lenses money could buy.

Giddy at his newfound joy in just… everything, Harry laughed. He felt amazing! If Daekin was still around he'd kiss him!

Harry's giggling was cut short when he heard a twig snap. He twirled toward the sound and stared hard for the thing that made it. Now that he was paying attention, he could feel… something. Something familiar that sent a warm tingle through his heart.

From behind a dark tree of the Forbidden Forest, a small Thestral galloped out, its skeleton wings flapping lightly. Harry sucked in a shuddering breath at the sight of it. When he had first seen them during his fifth year, he had been a tad put off by their appearance, but now…

It was like seeing your long lost child for the first time. Harry's heart swelled with protectiveness, and he just knew that he would do anything for the little Thestral—for any Dark creature.

Harry jerked and placed a shaking hand to his heart. Why was he feeling so strongly for a creature he had never even met before…? A single thought floated through Harry's mind—a bit of the knowledge Daekin had given him—and he knew.

Creatures of the Dark—they were his… children. Just like humans and animals were creations of God, all beings of the Dark were creations of Daekin. And as the new King of Dae, it was as if he adopted them into his life.

While Harry understood it, he was a little disconcerted to have emotions forced onto him. It would take a while before he was able to accept this in full.

The Thestral gave a sudden snort, once more gaining Harry's attention. He took a hesitant step toward it, and naturally, the Thestral did not retreat. When Harry was finally within reach of the creature, he raised a hand slowly to its head and petted it. The baby Thestral nosed Harry's hand gently before allowing him to continue to stroke its almost leathery skin.

A smile was working its way onto his face and he broke into a laugh when the Thestral licked his arm.

There was more rustling of leaves and Harry was caught off guard as more Thestrals slowly began to trek into the clearing. Harry's eyes darted from tree to tree quickly, his shock only growing more and more as he saw beings standing in places that had previously been empty air.

Just like the baby Thestral, Harry could feel them—feel that they were his. The sudden connection was overwhelming, and Harry dropped to his knees as the emotions assaulted him. Visions flashed through his mind like a kaleidoscope and Harry realized with a start that he was seeing flashes of their lives.

Dark creatures in the wizarding world were treated far from kindly. They were hunted, despised, feared… The more Harry learned through their memories, the more his heart bled for them. When the visions finally ended, Harry was a sobbing mess on the floor, his arms circled around his head protectively.

All around him the creatures of Dark watched in concern.

After getting his emotions under control, Harry stood shakily to his feet and leaned heavily against a tree. He wanted to resent Daekin and all those creatures staring at him for putting him through this, but he found that he just couldn't.

They needed him. All of them. They needed a protector. Harry vowed, then and there… that he would do everything in his power to make life better for them.

Now that the emotions had reached a manageable level, Harry's eyes scanned the clearing, taking in the sight of all of his… children. Harry's face twisted a little at calling them his children, but it was the only word he could use.

He saw Thestrals: leather-skinned skeletal horses that could only be gazed upon by those who had seen dead. He saw Blood-Sucking Bugbears: large bear-like creatures with pitch black fur and glowing white eyes. He saw Bowtruckles: small wood-skinned creatures that were mostly peaceful unless the tree in which they lived in was attacked.

And then Harry's eyes settled on a human—or rather, a werewolf. Harry had always suspected that werewolves lived in the Forbidden Forest… but he had never imagined that there were so many. Most were clothed in barely-there rags and a few were completely naked.

However, one savage looking werewolf caught Harry's eye.

"Greyback."

The name left Harry's lips before he could stop himself.

Greyback's head was lowered submissively and he took a step forward upon being singled out. "King," he acknowledged reverently.

Harry Potter's fingers itched to grab his wand and blast the werewolf to oblivion, but the King of Dae protested against it vehemently, aghast at the thought of harming one of his own. The two conflicting sides waged war inside of Harry before he sagged, a grand sigh escaping him.

With a few easy strides, Harry stood before the werewolf and with a gentle hand, he lifted Greyback's chin until they were staring face to face.

He could practically hear the man's inner-wolf whimpering.

"Fenrir Greyback," Harry stated, eyes narrowing. "You have been rather… busy lately, haven't you?"

Greyback tried to look away, but Harry's hand tightening on his chin forestalled that.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I—I never thought the King would ever return!" Greyback said, his deep voice wobbly in fear. "It had been centuries since your downfall, but still a new King had not appeared!"

"So you found a new master?" Harry asked dangerously. "You found someone who would encourage your baser instincts?"

Greyback began trembling in Harry's hand.

"I should kill you," Harry hissed and Greyback's shaking ceased, his eyes growing wide in fear. "But, I won't. I've already vowed I'd do everything in my power to help you."

Harry had thought he'd enjoy making Greyback squirm, but instead it only filled him with self-loathing and disgust. He couldn't kill one of his own—no matter what. And the way tears seemed to be gathering in eyes which Harry thought could no longer retained humanity…

Sighing, Harry stroked the man's gnarled face, oddly pleased when the werewolf began to relax into his touch. Greyback wouldn't be punished by Harry, oh no.

He would face his punishment when he died.

Harry spun on his heel and walked back to the center of the clearing. By now he could tell that all of the Dark creatures in the Forbidden Forest had gathered, and he also knew that they could all hear and understand him.

Harry had thought that he would be a little nervous at addressing creatures that could possibly rip him to shreds, but he wasn't. He was their protector, and he could feel the natural trust they placed in him. Channeling the knowledge of the King of Dae that had been given to him, he began to speak using the voice he used when giving DA meetings.

"Some of you may know me, some of you may not. My name is Harry Potter, and I am the new King of Dae. In the absence of a King, you've all began to degrade, giving in to your baser instincts. But the fault does not lie with solely you. The wizarding world shuns you—resents you, and you strike back at them in the only way you know how."

His eyes swept over the crowd of creatures, and the ones who were particularly guilty of what he spoke wouldn't meet his gaze.

"No more. You have all been allowed to do things your way for long enough, and have things gotten better? No. They have only gotten progressively worse and more out of control. We are not at war with the Light! Darkness and Light can coexist peacefully, for without one, there cannot be the other.

"Things will change. I'll make sure of it. I'll make sure that all of you have better lives."

Harry was sure he could do it as well. He had to do it. Once more, people—or in this case, Dark creatures—were depending on him, and he'd rather die than let them down.

But before that, he still had one more loose end to tie up: Voldemort.

o0o

Harry hadn't expected the Dark creatures of the forest to follow him, but since they were, he decided to make the most of it.

Perched on the back of another fully grown Thestral, he soared over the Forbidden Forest towards Hogwarts. When he had first sought Voldemort in the forest, the fields outside the castle had been alight with battle. Now, only the fallen remained, and even though Harry flew far above the carnage, the sight of each dead body made his heart clench.

Hardening his heart for what he would possibly see once they touched down, Harry guided the Thestral toward the ground, right outside the large doors to the castle.

Behind him, the creatures of Darkness—he'd really have to find another name for them—were eyeing the battlefield with varying degrees of interest. Some looked guilty, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that they had helped cause some the destruction.

Sighing, Harry shook his head. He wanted to be angry with them, but he just no longer had it in his heart. They would be punished, of that he was sure, but it would not be him who did it.

Raising his voice, Harry called, "You all stay out here, okay? This is my war, not yours."

Some looked ready to charge in anyway, but it was an order by their King, so they would obey—albeit reluctantly.

Satisfied that they would listen, Harry turned towards the foreboding doors of the castle. Through those doors, anything could greet him.

After taking a deep breath, Harry slowly pushed open the heavy wooden door, grave quietness greeting him on the other side. He knew that most of the students were in the Great Hall, and from where he stood, the sounds of their resistance should be overwhelming.

So why were there no sounds of struggling?

As he walked closer towards the open doors of the Great Hall, Harry struggled to keep his heaving breaths under control. How long had he lain in that forest…? What sight would greet him once he stepped through that open door?

Harry almost didn't want to find out, but he knew he had to.

Breathe utterly still; the new King of Dae stepped into the doorway of the Great Hall.

Piles of dead bodies stared back at him.

Under the pale moon light which shone from the enchanted ceiling, the blood practically coating the hall held an eerie beauty. Ron, Hermione, Ginny… even a few of the professors who had been stationed there to stand guard—they were all dead.

Harry James Potter crumpled to his knees and screamed, energy exploding out of him violently.

All around the world, creatures of Darkness paused and turned toward the direction they felt the power originating from. The world of Darkness knew its King had returned… and they pitied the one who would incur his wrath.

o0o

Harry didn't shed a single tear over the death of all his friends. Instead, after he screamed his throat raw, he stumbled to his feet before walking with purposeful steps outside and onto Hogwarts grounds. All of the Dark creatures had waited outside, and he knew without even having to look that they all felt and understood his pain.

Harry's eyes roved the large group of beings before settling on one: Fenrir Greyback.

The werewolf didn't even have time to gasp as something invisible—Harry's magic—latched onto him and pulled. In the blink of an eye, he levitated in front of the new King, limbs restrained and eyes wide in fear.

"Greyback," Harry whispered, looking straight into the feral man's eyes.

Greyback tried to respond, but only chocked noises came out. Harry wasn't hurting him, but the oppressive anger and pain in the magic he exuded was enough to bring one to their knees.

"You know the location of Voldemort's lair, right?" Harry asked, seemingly unaware of the effect he was having.

Still gasping, Greyback could only nod weakly.

"Legilimens," Harry hissed before delving into the werewolves mind and extracting the image of Voldemort's lair.

Satisfied, he released his magic and Greyback crumbled to the floor, coughing violently.

"You won't be able to find it," Greyback gasped out, curled up on the ground. "It's protected. The Fidelius Charm. Even then, the Dark Lord placed several powerful wards around it!"

Harry eyed Greyback harshly. "I don't care."

Turning on his heel, Harry disappeared with a crack, the eyes of those who understood growing impossibly wide.

It was impossible to Apparate while on Hogwarts' grounds.

o0o

Harry landed on his feet shakily, resisting the urge to vomit for more reasons than one.

The image of his dead friends had been burned into his eyelids, and that same fire was now burning inside of him with a violent need for revenge. Voldemort would pay for taking so much from him. He would know the depths of Harry's suffering, and then Harry would send him to Hell personally.

Straightening, he looked around his surroundings, wondering where in the lair he was. He was in a dark and dreary stone hallway, the only light coming from torches aligned on the wall.

As Harry walked, he stared in mild-curiosity at the still portraits of things ranging from open fields to snakes crawling through a human skull. He checked every room he came across warily, but so far, he had not found signs that anyone even inhabited the place.

His wand was between his fingers instantly when he heard the signs of talking from around a corner. A quick peek showed him two Death Eaters talking with their masks still worn, but Harry knew that blond hair anywhere. Lucius Malfoy.

The other Death Eater laughed at something Lucius said and Harry felt anger lance through him like the Cruciatus curse. Without even pausing to think, he stepped around the corner and raised his wand.

The Death Eaters gave twin gasps when they spotted him. Harry didn't even give them a chance to speak.

"Avada Kedavra," Harry's voice hissed, slipping into parseltongue unconsciously.

The brown-haired Death Eater slumped to the floor, dead, and the sound of his lifeless body hitting the floor sprung Lucius into action. His wand slipped into his hand and he fired a dark blue curse which had Harry slipping back around to corner to dodge it.

"Harry Potter," he heard Lucius whisper, his voice a mix of shock and amusement. "The Dark Lord will be most pleased when he finds out you are still alive. He rather regretted not having the chance to torture you more before killing you."

Harry remained quiet, refusing to raise the bait. The hallways echoed with the sound of Lucius' footsteps as he trudged closer. When they paused, Harry peeked around the corner only to withdraw as a red hex zoomed past.

"He rectified that mistake with your friends, you know."

Harry jerked, and Lucius laughed as though he'd seen it.

"You should have been there," Lucius taunted cruelly. "Those red-headed blood traitors were so convinced you would be there to stop us. Their screams of anger were turned to pain soon enough."

Harry's fingers tightened on his wand almost to the point of snapping. Lucius' comment had struck its mark, and Harry remembered clearly the faces of the Weasleys. His best mate, Ron—mouth open and blood trickling from his ears. The girl he wanted to start a family with, Ginny—tears still in her eyes as she cried, no doubt waiting on him to save her.

Lucius had stopped walking, his ears no doubt picking up the sound of Harry's harsh breathing.

Sneering, Lucius asked, "What's wrong, Potter? No cocky retorts? No violent threats? Tsk, tsk. You're nothing without your friends, I see."

Harry knew he should attack, that Lucius had let his guard down as he continued to taunt him. But a morbid part of Harry wanted to hear it, to know how his friends had died. He needed to know how great his failure was by not saving them.

"The mudblood," Lucius continued sadistically. "She screamed the loudest as she was tortured to death. Well, Draco did always complain that she was a loudmouth."

Cruel laughter filled the air and tears streamed down Harry's cheeks. He brought a hand to his heart, feeling what was left of it breaking. It was what Lucius said next, however, that truly drove him over the edge.

"And then there was Longbottom…"

A gasp left Harry and he stilled completely. He had told Neville to defeat Voldemort in his stead, and truly that was a mistake that Harry would always regret. But, he hadn't found the boy's body in the Great Hall. Harry knew it was naïve, but there was a small thread of hope that maybe he had survived…

Lucius crushed that notion promptly.

"He tried to stand up to the Dark Lord. The poor fool thought that he actually had a chance. Hah! Pathetic. The Dark Lord was very creative in how he disposed of him. He placed the Sorting Hat on top of the fools head, lit it on fire, and laughed as the boy burned to death."

Harry's mind instantly conjured the image of the Great Hall once more. In the center of the carnage had been a badly charred body, but without evidence, Harry had simply assumed…

Neville… died trying to fill the order Harry had given to him.

Rage and shame filling him, Harry's eyes bled to black.

o0o

The last thing Harry expected at all was to suddenly awake. He sat up with a gasp, looking around his surroundings frantically.

He was in a crater, at least twenty feet deep at the center and it seemed to stretch on for as far as Harry could see.

Where was he? What had happened…? The last thing he remembered was charging into Voldemort's lair, losing control because of Lucius… and then… this.

Staring around the crater, Harry knew instinctively that he had caused this. When he had felt something break inside of him, the floodgates had been opened and Dark magic had surged into him. The force and purity of the magic had been so strong that he actually blacked out.

But apparently, Harry had done what he sought to do. He had destroyed Voldemort's lair and every living being in it.

Raising a hand to brush his scar lightly, Harry knew it was over. The link he had with Voldemort was gone, and there could only be one reason for that: the old snake face was dead.

Harry thought he would be comforted at the thought, but instead it filled him with a vague emptiness. The person who had taken everything from him was gone. He should be happy, right? Satisfied that it was over and done with.

Yet, that thought did nothing to console him. His parents, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna… all of them. They were dead, and no matter who he killed, that wouldn't bring them back. Harry knew this—possibly even better than most—but that didn't make the hurt any less.

"Impressive show of power, King."

Harry was on his feet instantly, his wand out and pointed toward where the sound originated.

Standing on the edge of the ledge almost half a kilometer before him, a man stood. In the cover of the night, Harry wasn't able to make out much.

"Woh there, King, I'm a creature of the Dark! Can't you feel it?"

Frowning, Harry tried to focus on the man and found that he did indeed feel it. He relaxed instantly and fell back onto the ground, exhausted. Whatever he had done to Voldemort's lair, it took a lot of energy and the vertigo from standing so suddenly almost had him blowing chunks.

He watched in shock as the man on the ledge suddenly jumped high into the air and flipped twice before wings sprouted from his back. They were thin and leathery, stretching for at least six feet length wise. With a single flap of his wings, the man was able to slow the descent of his fall enough to land safely on his feet.

"Tada!" the man proclaimed grandly, throwing his hands into the air.

Harry simply watched, deadpan, until the man coughed and lowered his arms, looking awkward. They were now within feet of each other, and through the small light provided from the moon; Harry was able to get a good look at him.

The man was tall—at least compared to Harry—standing at six feet tall. He was slender, but even through the black knee-length trench coat he wore Harry could tell that the man had muscle. His face was sharp, but lightened by a hint of playfulness. His black hair was short and unruly like Harry's, but on the other man it worked. Underneath the coat, the man wore a tight black shirt, leather pants, and leather boots. Though it was hard to tell, Harry guessed that the man had deep silver eyes.

Harry turned his face away when he noticed that the man had been waiting for him to finish his once over. Chuckling, the winged-man's boots crunched lightly as he walked forward.

"Long time no see, King. I'm digging the new look."

Brow raised, Harry looked back up at the man who was staring down at him with a wide grin.

"Oh, that's right! I know who you are, but you probably wouldn't know me, huh?" Once more chuckling, the man gave a deep bow. "My name is Alouran the incubus and I'm the secretary of Orhalian."

Despite how tired he was, Harry managed to once more get to his feet and incline his head as well. His brain was still responding slowly, so things he should have knew seemed to slip his mind completely.

"I'm Harry, reluctant new King of Dae."

Alouran laughed at his introduction and Harry's lips twitched upward before it fell away with a sigh.

"Sorry, I should know this but… Orhalian?"

The word was very familiar, but with everything that had happened and all the new information and things he was feeling… It was very hard to keep track of it all.

Alouran smiled in understanding. "Orhalian is a castle that resides in another plane of existence—like Heaven, except for beings of Darkness. The King of Dae resides there, and it is from there that most of the King's work is done. As secretary, I'm basically an assistant to the King and help with all of his or her duties."

Harry frowned as he let the words sink in slowly. "I see…"

"Don't worry, it'll all make sense eventually," Alouran assured.

Nodding, Harry blinked as his vision suddenly darkened at the edges.

Alouran noticed and took a step toward him. "King? You alright?"

"Harry," he breathed, brushing away Alouran's fingers when he tried to touch his forehead, "call me Harry. And I'm fine… just tired."

"Uh huh," Alouran frowned, showing that he clearly didn't believe him but would humor him nonetheless. "Whatever you say, Harry."

Scowling, Harry turned away from the abnormally cheerful incubus as he wondered what he should do next. He really was exhausted, but he didn't exactly know where he could go or if he could even manage to drag his body there.

His vision swam again and the only thing stopping him from falling was a pair of arms suddenly around his shoulders. A soft voice next to his ear spoke.

"I got ya, Kin—I mean, Harry."

"Sorry," Harry apologized weakly, trying to stand on his own and failing.

Alouran tightened his hold on him, and had Harry been in a more lucid state he would be more indignant at the manhandling.

"Nothing to apologize for," Alouran said gently. "Just… sleep. I'll take you somewhere safe."

Harry didn't know whether it was the instant trust he had in the incubus or if he was simply more tired than he thought. Either way, Harry followed the advice gladly and promptly returned to the blissful embrace of unconsciousness.

o0o

Harry was getting really tired of sleeping. In the past twenty-four hours alone he was pretty sure that he had been conked out for at least twenty of them.

The first thing he noticed upon waking this time was the luxury of the room in which he slept. The room literally appeared to be made of gold—the walls, the drapes, the carpet—but upon closer inspection he saw that it was just done in that color.

Even the large four-poster bed he found himself in was covered by golden-silk blankets and pillows.

Underneath the awe at the overwhelming extravagance of it all, he also felt a hint of familiarity. He—or rather, Daekin—knew this place. The name of it was just on the tip of his tongue when the door opened and Alouran walked in.

The incubus' eyes lit up upon seeing him and Harry managed to work up a small smile.

"Sleeping beauty finally awakens!" Alouran yelled in comical surprise.

Harry's smile grew into a hesitant grin. "How long was I out?"

"A week."

"A-a week?" Harry sputtered, watching the man's face for any signs of joking. He was perfectly blank faced and serious.

So it had been an entire week since his life suddenly took another unexpected turn. If it had been a week, then news of everything that had happened would be all over the front pages. The death at Hogwarts, the destruction of Voldemort's lair, Harry's sudden disappearance…

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered, summing up his feeling on the situation perfectly.

Alouran broke out into a sudden giggle. "The new King has a bit of a potty mouth," he said in singsong. He snapped to attention at Harry's glare.

Rolling his eyes, Harry asked, "Why was I out so long?"

"After absorbing Daekin's powers, you were supposed to take it easy and learn to use all of it naturally. But, well… you know what happens next. All of that power was just too much for your untrained body, and you were so magically exhausted you nearly died."

"D-died?"

Alouran rolled his eyes. "Yes, died. Really, Harry, I know imitation is the sincerest form of flattery but come on."

Harry brushed off the sarcasm easily, too shocked to pay it any notice. "What would have happened if I… died?"

"Your spirit would leave your body and come to rest here."

Harry blinked. "What?"

Sighing in fake hopelessness, Alouran explained, "Right now, you're human, right? Your body isn't the King of Dae. It's your soul. When you die, your soul will simply be expelled from your body where it will come back here as if you had never left."

Still a little overwhelmed, Harry barely held in more curses. Alouran seemed to see him swallow his words and grinned.

"That's… amazing," Harry said, trying to sort all of the information in his brain. All of the facts Daekin knew were in there, but they were so disjointed and varied that it would be a while before his brain could just naturally sort them all.

"I feel a little out of my depth here," Harry admitted lowly, expecting more jokes from the incubus. He was pleasantly surprised when a comforting smile rose to the man's face and he nodded.

"I know it's all a lot to take in, but that's what I'm here for. I'll do anything I can to help."

Harry had taken the incubus seriously until he wiggled his eyebrows at the word 'anything'. It was enough to surprise a laugh out of him and he threw a pillow at the man who dodged it easily.

"Hey, I made you laugh!" Alouran exclaimed gleefully.

Still chuckling, Harry felt himself relaxing back into the bed in which he lay. "Thanks, Alouran. I-I needed that."

The incubus nodded, looking pleased with himself. "No problem, Harry. I truly do wish to help you, though."

"In… in that case," Harry began hesitantly. "I've been sleeping for a week and I really have to use the bathroom."

Alouran grinned at Harry's awkwardness but didn't tease him. "While you're there, I'm sure you would appreciate a bath as well, hmm?"

Harry's stomach grumbled and Alouran laughed out loud. "I'll have food and a change of clothes ready after your bath."

Ducking his head, Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, you don't have to do all that. I don't want to be a bother…"

Alouran paused in opening the door and shot him a disbelieving look over his shoulder. "Uh, King of Dae, remember? It's not a bother, Harry, really. Your wish is my command."

With a showy bow, Alouran grinned and left the room.

Smiling, Harry stared up at the ceiling. It appeared as if his new life as the King of Dae had finally begun.


	3. Making a Change

_A/N: _Wow, the response to this story literally blows me away! I was really on the fence about whether anyone would like this story or not... so thanks, all of you! I appreciate everyone who reviews, favorites, alerts, whatever! So, yeah. This chapter is for you guys.

A lot of people want to know when the brothers will be appearing, so I'll tell you... very soon! I'm sure you'll be able to guess when by the end of the chapter.

Don't forget to leave a review! They really motivate me and help me to keep my Writer's High.

**o0o**

After bathing and changing clothes, Harry was happily stuffing his face while Alouran watched, the incubus' face shifting between horror and amusement. Harry was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, much to the displeasure of his new secretary. The incubus apparently took the title of King very seriously, for the outfit he picked out for Harry included _ruffles_.

Luckily, a blank stare and a quick "I'm not wearing that," was all it took for him to have more clothing brought to him. Unfortunately, it had been more things centuries out of style until Harry _finally_ asked that they bring him some simple, current century muggle clothing.

"Slow down, Harry, before you die," Alouran finally chastised when Harry almost choked for the second time.

"Sorry," Harry apologized, taking a long drink from a jewel incrusted chalice. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sighing in pleasure. "This is good. What is it?"

"Well, its—"

"Never mind," Harry interrupted quickly, seeing the wicked gleam in Alouran's eyes. "I don't think I wanna know."

Alouran pouted—_seriously_ pouted. Harry gaped for a long a moment before laughing, amazed that a creature of the Dark could be so funny and, dare he say it, cute.

"What's so funny?" Alouran asked playfully, his pout already replaced with a grin.

Harry shrugged, playing with his food idly now that he had his fill. "I don't know. Even though I've only known a few Dark creatures, I never knew they could be so… _happy_."

Alouran's grin softened into a smile. "Of course, Harry. We're not heartless monsters… Well, not _all_ of us. And besides, I'm not always like this."

"What do you mean?" Though Harry had only known him for all of two hours, he couldn't imagine the incubus being any other way.

"Well, I'm sure you've already noticed the effect you have on creatures of the Dark, right?"

"Yeah…" Harry drawled, frowning lightly.

"It's hard to explain, but, it's not the same for everyone." Alouran paused and shifted into an exaggerated thinking pose, making Harry snort. The incubus smiled upon hearing it. "See, it's like that. Normally, I'm not so relaxed and playful… but when I'm around you, I…"

"Release your inner toddler?"

It was Alouran's turn to snort. "Yeah, I guess. It's hard to explain to someone who's never felt it before, but I feel like you're my… my leader, but also my best friend." Shrugging, Alouran looked away and wouldn't meet Harry's astonished gaze. "Like I said, it's not the same for everyone. One person might just respect you as someone wiser and stronger than they are, but another might look to you as if you were _actually_ their father."

Harry stared up at the ceiling as he tried to sort and understand what Alouran was telling him. Just like he had thought when he first felt it for himself, he thought it again now. The thought of emotions being _forced_ on someone… it just didn't sit well with him.

"Do you hate it?" Harry muttered, staring ahead blankly.

Alouran's eyes snapped to him in confusion. "Hate what?"

Sighing, Harry clenched and unclenched his hands. "Like, you said it yourself. When you're around me you feel like I'm your leader and best friend—_why_? You don't know me, and I don't know you, but just because I'm the King of Dae you're forced to—"

"No one's forcing me into anything," Alouran interrupted, looking angry for the first time since Harry met him.

"Yes I am!" Harry exploded, grabbing his own hair roughly. "If I weren't the King, you wouldn't want anything to do with me! …And all of those other creatures? They wouldn't follow _or_ respect me!"

Alouran scoffed, his silver eyes hard and unflinching. "That's where you're wrong."

Harry stared at Alouran in bewilderment.

"Why do you think there wasn't a new King of Dae immediately after Daekin died, huh? If everyone would love and respect the new King, then why couldn't just _anyone_ be chosen?"

"I—I don't know," Harry admitted quietly, his eyes drifting to a far corner of the room.

"It's because that's not how it _works_! You think that you love and want to protect us _just_ because you're the King? And you think we would follow you blindly, _just_ because you were the King? If some psycho nut job was King, you think I'd be getting friendly with him? Hell no!"

"Then how does it work?" Harry whispered weakly, _needing_ to understand.

"The soul isn't as simple as you like to believe," Alouran continued, a dark frown on his face. "A soul contains _everything_ about that person—it's even more vital than the brain. Just by looking at a person's soul, you can know everything about them."

"And… and that's why I feel this way," Harry guessed, trying to piece together what Alouran was telling him. "I read their souls, and just like that, it's like I've know them their whole lives?"

"Yes," Alouran bit out, clearly displeased.

"And it's the same for them as well? When they read _my_ soul, they just… know how they feel about me?"

"Again, yes."

"So… if they were bad, I wouldn't want to protect them?"

"No."

"And if _I_ was bad, they wouldn't follow me."

Harry was no longer asking questions. He was stating aloud what he had come to realized.

Alouran sighed, tilting his head. "You got it."

Practically crumbling in his seat, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Well that's a load off my shoulders."

Alouran didn't respond and Harry watched him hesitantly. "Alouran? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," the incubus said finally, shrugging. He snorted and shook his head. "I just forgot for a second that you were only human."

Harry bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sorry?"

Mercifully, Alouran looked at him and smiled. "Don't be. It was my mistake."

"No," Harry denied, surprising the incubus. "It's my fault. Like you said, I'm just a silly little human."

"Not exactly my words," Alouran said slowly, a teasing grin on his face, "but appropriate."

"Gee, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

The two grinned at each other, and with that, Harry's reservations about being the King of Dae were blown away and slowly… time passed.

Days morphed into weeks, and weeks became months.

As the seasons changed in the world Harry no longer inhabited, so too did Harry change. With each passing day, more and more of Daekin's knowledge was being properly sorted into his brain, and Alouran was there to fill in whatever blank Daekin's memories didn't cover.

Through the years, Harry's bond with Alouran solidified, and the new King couldn't think of a better secretary than the one he had.

The incubus was a bit of a slave driver at times, but it was for the best and Harry was progressing far faster than he thought he would. He was slowly coming to understand and control the powers Daekin had given him, but his magic was the hardest to control of all.

It was wild and violent—purely dark, and it took all of Harry's energy to make it bend to his will. But like all things, Harry was slowly getting the hang of it.

Life as the King of Dae was not what Harry thought it would be. For one, there were enormous amounts of paperwork, dating back centuries! Apparently, it was not allowed for anyone but the King to handle official matters concerning the Dark, and as a result, Harry had _a lot_ of catching up to do.

After only a year, Harry made his first decision as the new King of Dae. He had already given his 'coming out' speech that fateful day at Hogwarts when his magic lost control, but this was his first foray out of Orhalian and into the world.

And it just so happened to be the wizarding world.

When around Alouran or any other servants of Orhalian, Harry could forget all the pain and suffering he had endured while living on earth. It was almost as if it was another life. Even so, Harry was still human and nightmares plagued him constantly.

He had never felt the need to go back to the wizarding world—not even to know how everyone was coping with everything. He was too ashamed of his failure and was sure they blamed him as well.

However, as the King of Dae, he had made a vow. He said he would make life better for the Dark creatures of Britain, so his first trip back to the wizarding world was to get the ball moving to accomplish that.

The Ministry of Magic was _very_ surprised when an eighteen year old Harry Potter walked in, his incubus secretary not far behind. For those who saw him before he disappeared, it was as if he hadn't aged a bit—and that was because he hadn't. Time was completely stalled in Orhalian, so even though Harry was aging mentally… he wasn't aging _physically_.

There was general chaos and mayhem abound as the Ministry of Magic all bent over themselves to kiss the destroyer of the Dark Lord's ass. Then there was even more chaos and mayhem as he revealed that he was the new King of Dae and they trampled over themselves to flee from his presence. Harry could have cared less if they now thought that he was Dark… because he _was_. But he wouldn't let the wizarding world's hatred and blindness hurt what he considered to be his children.

That was how the "Dark Creature Integration Act" began. The Light side had fought tooth and nail against it, but as the King of Dae, he had political weight that they just couldn't bring down on themselves should they refuse.

The DCIA was Harry's first and his proudest achievement. In a nutshell, it prohibited the hunting and endangerment of Dark creatures in Britain, and it made it so all Dark creatures had all the same privileges of those on the Light side.

It took _years_ to set up all the minor details and fill all the loopholes, but once it was done, Harry hoped that he had created a wizarding Britain that Remus would have been proud to live in.

Harry was broke from his musing at the sound of his throne room door being thrown open, Alouran striding in with an agitated look on his face.

The "throne room" was actually just a very snazzy office, but when Alouran had first shown it to him, he gestured to the chair behind the desk and said "Your throne, your highness," and since then, Harry's office was dubbed the throne room.

Startled, Harry pretended to busy himself with _more_ paperwork, but he knew that his best friend and secretary wouldn't buy it. By now, the two had developed a sort of routine. Harry would pretend to work, Alouran would fake being exasperated before they slacked off together, and then the incubus would turn back into a slave driver and force him to do _insufferably _boring work.

Only this time, Alouran didn't give him an amused huff when he saw Harry 'working'. The incubus continued to pace the floor restlessly, his eyebrows knitted in a frown.

Staring at the scene in concern, Harry called hesitantly, "Alouran?"

The man sighed but didn't cease his pacing, his face twisted in reluctance. With a quick glance at Harry, he spoke, "Do you remember that delegate we sent to America—ooh, say, a month ago?"

Harry raised an eyebrow in confusion. After he had settled his business in Britain roughly three months ago, he decided that it was time to focus on the rest of the world as well. His first step in that process had been to send delegates to all four corners of the world. "Yeah? So?"

Alouran gave a jerky nod before stopping his pacing to stand in front of Harry's desk which overflowed with work. "And do you remember ever hearing a response from him?"

Frowning, Harry thought hard but couldn't remember hearing about any news in America. "I don't think so, why?"

Giving another mighty sigh, Alouran plopped down into one of the seats opposite Harry's desk. "Yeah, well… there's a good reason for that. He's… dead."

Harry drew in a startled breath and sat up straighter in his seat. "Elios is dead? But… _how_? Surely I would have felt it…" His voice trailed off as he tried to do just that, but found himself unable to. It was as if Elios had simply dropped off the face of the earth.

"I don't feel anything," Harry whispered weakly.

"Yeah," Alouran breathed, seeming to have expected that answer.

"No," Harry said, eyes wide and breathe shallow. "I can't feel any Dark creatures in America _at all_."

Alouran hissed. "What? Are you sure you're not just tired or—"

"No, I'm fine," Harry dismissed quickly. "Usually when I concentrate I can vaguely feel the Darkness of the world, but America… It's like it's just…_ gone._"

"Maybe you're not looking in the right place," Alouran suggested weakly. "How long since you've been in human school again?"

Harry glared, although it didn't have any heat. "I think I know basic geography, thanks."

"But… this is impossible! I mean, unless the hu—" Alouran trailed off suddenly, looking a little uncomfortable. Harry, however, noticed and his eyes narrowed.

"Alouran? What were you going to say?"

Sighing, Alouran shrugged weakly. "Not much… just that maybe the hunters have finally succeeded in killing everything Dark in America…"

Harry blinked slowly before exploding. "_What_?"

"See, this is why I didn't want to tell you." The incubus had drawn in on himself, arms crossed and face vulnerable.

"Alouran," Harry said with as much patience as he could muster, "please explain yourself."

"Well," Alouran began hesitantly, eyes not meeting Harry's. "The situation in America has _always_ been worse than Britain, but you were so determined on what was happening there that I didn't want to—"

"Alouran!"

"Okay, okay, geez!" At Harry's glare, the incubus shifted awkwardly, hands raised in surrender. "Like I said, America has always been a pretty bad place for a Dark creature to live, mostly because of the hunters there."

"Hunters? Like werewolf hunters?"

Alouran shrugged vaguely. "I guess, although usually they're more diverse than that. I don't know _how_, but most—if not _all _of them—are humans, too."

Harry gaped. "Normal, non-magical humans?"

"Yeap," Alouran confirmed, seemingly unable to believe it himself. "And those little humans are making Dark creatures drop like flies."

"How?" Harry choked out, unable to wrap his mind around it. Compared to a human, a creature of the Dark was near _immortal_.

"I don't know… but somehow, they've been able to find our weaknesses and then they exploit them for all they're worth."

Harry placed his heads in his hands and sighed tiredly. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. The work of a King was never done.

"You said it was bad. How bad?"

"Um… Dark creatures nearing the point of extinction bad?"

"_What_?!" Harry cried, jumping to his feet in shock. "_That_ bad? You… you knew it had gotten to that point but you let me work on the DCIA in Britain for _seven years_?"

Alouran too jumped to his feet and he held his hands up as if to ward off Harry's anger. "I told you! You were so determined to fix what was happening in Britain and I didn't want to—"

"Save it," Harry said tiredly, falling back into his seat heavily.

"Harry?" Alouran whined pitifully. "Are you mad at me?"

Harry sighed and shook his head, rubbing his eyes. "No, I'm not. I'm more angry at myself. Instead of playing favorites, I should have helped those who needed it most first."

"It's not your fault, Harry. The decline in America has been going on for centuries…"

"Even so, I can't help feeling like I've failed them…"

"Harry," Alouran breathed helplessly.

They sat in silence for several tense moments before Harry looked up, his eyes set in determination. "Pack your bags, Al, we're going to America."

"America?" Alouran repeated blankly.

"That's right," Harry grinned. "So go and get packed. We're going on a road trip."

The reluctance on Alouran's face was clearly visible, causing Harry to roll his eyes. "If you don't want to go, you can stay at the castle."

Alouran snapped to attention, his eyes growing wide. "No way!"

Harry watched with a chuckle as the incubus turned and left.

**o0o**

One of the great things about Orhalian was that its front door was essentially a portal. It was usually sealed at all times, but on special occasions it was opened—allowing those who stepped into it to reappear anywhere they wished.

In a way, it was almost like the floo system. As long as you had where you wanted to go in mind, the front door of Orhalian could take you there. And it was easier on the stomach as well.

As the cooling sensation of being sprayed by a light mist wore off, Harry opened his eyes to find himself in a dark, muggy forest. In his hands was a single suitcase—one of the magical variety with unlimited storage and a built-in feather-light charm.

Beside him stood his reluctant secretary, also holding his own suitcase no doubt filled with cosmetic products of all sort. Alouran didn't like to flaunt it, but he was one of the most shallow beings on the planet, which was probably a given when you're an incubus.

Harry looked around the forest in which they teleported curiously, concentrating his powers on the immediate area, feeling for any signs of Darkness and finding now.

"Are you sure this is the right place?"

"I guess," Alouran said hesitantly. "Manning, Colorado. There was a coven of vampires here like… fifty years ago? I know it's a stretch, but I can't think of any other Dark creature colonies in America."

Harry shook his head, starting the trek through the forest cautiously. "No, vampires are very territorial. Unless something spooked them, they stay in one place almost their whole lives."

Alouran sighed but fell into step behind him. "But what if something _did_ spook them? What if they attracted the attention of some hunters so they left town or _worst_?"

"Don't say that," Harry snapped lightly. "If we were only gonna think negatively, we might as well have just left America to rot."

"But, Harry," Alouran groaned childishly. Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. He really _did_ bring out the inner-toddler of the incubus. "What are we going to do when we find them? I mean, how will this help us?"

Under his breath, Harry whispered, "If I knew you were gonna be like this I would have told you to stay at the castle."

"I heard that! Super sensitive otherworldly hearing, remember?"

Harry spun on his heel with a growl, stopping Alouran in his tracks. "Look, I don't know, okay? But something is going on here, and the last person I sent here was _killed_. Maybe it's the hunters, maybe it's not, but either way, I'm not leaving here until I get to the bottom of this."

After his angry tirade, Harry eyed his secretary seriously before continued forward, calling over his shoulder, "Now come on. We need to get to town and book a hotel."

Alouran merely nodded, unable to speak.

**o0o**

After finally trekking into town and getting a room at the first hotel the two could find, they were once more on the streets, searching for a sign of anything out of the ordinary. It was nearing midnight, the sky clear except a few sprinkling of stars and the pale crescent moon. At this time of night, they were more likely to run into something Dark than during the day.

"You can't smell anything, can you, Al?"

Alouran shook his head with a sigh. "No, all I smell are humans. And pollution," he added distastefully.

Sighing, Harry once again extended his abilities, concentrating specifically on the town they resided in. Even so close to him, Alouran was hard to lock, so finding another unspecified being would be next to _impossible_.

"Still no good," Harry growled, watching the muggles closely for any suspicious behavior. "I can barely feel even _you_ and you're right next to me!"

Harry didn't even notice when his secretary suddenly stopped, his silver eyes watching something across the street. When Harry turned to ask his friend a question, he finally spotted the incubus several yards back, still staring across the street at something that held his attention.

"Alouran?" Harry called, walking over to him. "Al, what is? You spot a mirror?"

He chuckled at his own joke, but stopped when his gaze landed on the person who had captured Alouran's attention. The man was tall and well built with dark-brown hair parted at the middle. Harry didn't understand what was so fascinating until the man saw them watching, his eyes flashing briefly before he turned and walked away.

"That was—" Harry began quietly.

"A vampire," Alouran finished.

After exchanging glances briefly, the two hurriedly followed after the vampire, staying as far away from them as they could without losing sight of him. When the vampire walked off a road and into the forest adjacent to it, Harry and Alouran followed without hesitation.

The foliage was thicker and more obstructive than the woods they had teleported in, and it slowed their progress greatly. Harry released a curse when he entered a clearing and spun around, looking for any sign of the wandering vampire.

"You see him?" Harry asked.

Alouran shook his head in frustration. "No, it's like he's vanished, and he already smelled like the forest so we're lost there."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I guess we're back to square one."

He turned back to trace the path they beat through the forest and let out a short cry of surprise when he found the vampire standing right in front of them.

"Jeez, don't do that!" Harry groaned, placing a hand on his heart.

The vampire ignored Harry completely and instead eyed them both in suspicion. "You were following me—rather badly at that. Who are you?"

Harry frowned and looked at Alouran in confusion before turning back to the vampire. "Don't you… already know?"

The vampire glared. "If I knew, would I be asking?"

Alouran shrugged and grinned. "He's got you there, Harry."

Huffing, Harry turned his back on Alouran pointedly. "My name is Harry Potter, and the reason we were following you is because we know you're a vampire."

The vampire hissed violently and jumped backwards, sliding easily into a predatorily stance. Alouran looked ready to protect Harry if need be, but Harry wasn't afraid. He knew one of his creatures would never harm him—even if they couldn't tell what he was.

"No need for that," Harry stated dismissively. "We're not here to hurt you, and besides, we're not what we appear to be either. Can't you sense that?"

Slowly, the vampire rose from his stance and sniffed the air curiously. He turned to Alouran first. "You… you smell like sex."

Harry laughed and slapped the incubus on the arm. "He's got you there, Al!"

His friend accepted the teasing good-naturedly and shrugged. "Well, what can I say?"

Ignoring the friendly bantering, the vampire next turned to Harry. "And you… your scent—" The vampire drew in a deep breath and shuddered. "It makes me feel like you're my mate, only I don't wanna bone you."

This time it was Alouran turn to laugh at Harry's expense while Harry himself rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. The vampire stared at the two in disgruntlement, so Harry took pity on him and decided to fill him in.

"My friend Alouran here," Harry began, gesturing to said friend, "is an incubus, a being of Darkness who feeds on sex. And I am Harry Potter, the King of Dae—a protector of the Dark, if you will."

The vampires look shifted from mild curiosity at Harry's description of Alouran to perfect blankness when he described himself.

Harry tilted his head curiously. "Do you know what that is?"

The vampire shook his head and placed a hand to his non-beating heart. "No, I don't but, something inside of me. Uh… my _darkness_ ? It recognizes you… and respects you."

Harry smiled at the vampire comfortingly, seeing how much all of what he was being told unsettled him. Being raised away from magic made all muggle-raised Dark creatures much more out of sync with all things magical. With time, the vampire would feed off Harry's magic and instinctively allow him to understand everything.

"So," Harry said, breaking the silence, "we've introduced ourselves, but you've yet to do the same."

"Oh," the vampire blinked, shaking himself. "My name is Luther, and I'm the leader of my coven."

Nodding, Harry asked, "Your coven, ah, where are they?"

Though still disgruntled, Luther managed to work up a dark smile. "Oh, they went to order _take out_."

"Really now," Harry drawled, sharing a look with Alouran.

Turning back toward the vampire—Luther—Harry gave a small smile. "I'd like to meet your coven if that's alright with you."

Slowly growing used to their presence and magic, Luther smiled pleasantly. "Oh, sure. Follow me."

As they began their journey through the forest, Harry felt his mind racing. The sinister smile Luther wore when he mentioned 'take out' left no doubt in Harry's mind that he meant humans. And Harry could also tell that Luther was _not_ the type who treated his food nicely.

Sighing and shaking his head, Harry decided to wait until he actually saw for _himself_ how they treated humans before picking a course of action.

Hopefully it wouldn't be as bad as he feared.


	4. Hunters

_A/N:_ Here I am again with the next installment of "King of Dae"! I've been updating pretty frequently, but I can say with some manner of confidence that from here on out the updates will start slowing down. It may only be a few days, but it may be weeks, who knows~!

The plot slowly starts to thicken this chapter, and Harry finally meets the boys-although I'm not sure if its how anyone was expecting. Next chapter, however, is when things really get started!

This chapter has been beta'd by **StarAngel Caelum SunSoar**~!

If you could review after reading this chapter, I'd really appreciate it. Hope everyone enjoys it!

**o0o**

Luther led them to a seemingly abandoned barn deep inside the forest that was belied by the loud thump of music that seemed to shake the building's walls. Through the few windows that were open, Harry could hear the telltale sounds of partying.

Next to him, Alouran raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Not very subtle, are they?"

Luther turned to him with a shrug, a fond smile on his face. "Hey, they like to party… Who am I to deny them that?"

As soon as Luther pushed open the large doors of the barn, the sight of the party met Harry's eyes. Vampires of all shapes and sizes were either dancing proactively against one another or lazing around in various parts of the barn, booze in hand. Harry had to consciously remind himself that this was a vampire nest and not a muggle night club.

The vampires all turned as Luther entered, each one greeting him with loud cheers. One female vampire in particular was very enthusiastic in her greeting. With a shout, she launched herself across the barn and pounced onto Luther bodily, attacking the male vampire with her lips hungrily.

Luther's hands roved over her and Harry looked away, an awkward blush coloring his cheeks. The love flowing from the two made it rather obvious that they were mates.

Alouran was watching unabashedly, and with narrowed eyes, Harry elbowed the incubus in the stomach, causing him to double over with a groan. The sound reached the female vampire's ears and she reared back, her eyes snapping to them.

"I missed you too, Kate." Luther's voice sounded dazed from the kiss.

Kate flashed him a pleased smile before turning back to the two newcomers. She untangled herself from Luther and stepped around him, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "Aw, honey, you got me a present. Luckily, I got you one too." She liked her lips and eyed them up and down, a grin crossing her face when Alouran leered back.

"No, Kate," Luther frowned, grabbing his mate's arm and pulling her to his chest. "These guys are, uh… my friends."

At Luther's words, someone stopped the music and all the vampires turned to regard them warily. Harry shook his head with an inaudible sigh, seeing the reluctance the vampires had from an unknown guest being invited there—even if they were their leader's friend. Something was definitely going on in America that was screwing with his powers.

Stepping forward, Harry began the introductions. "Hello. My name is Harry Potter, and this is my friend, Alouran." The incubus gave a small smile and wave. The vampires didn't give one back. "You all may not understanding what I'm saying, but I'm the King of Dae and—"

"King of whaaat?" One male vampire asked, looking to his companions in confusion. They appeared just as lost and shook their heads back at him.

A sudden snort from a shadowed wall caught Harry's attention. There, a built black man was leaning against the wall, a beer bottle in his hand. "Luther, who is this clown?" He eyed Harry up and down before shaking his head, not seeing anything more than a human.

Luther frowned and stared at all of the vampires seriously. "He's exactly who he says he is, Hank: the King of Dae."

Silence stretched for several long moments before another female vampire who Harry was pretty sure he had seen giving someone a lap dance spoke. "King of Dae…? What is that? It sounds familiar…"

"I'm not actually a king," Harry explained, once more drawing everyone's attention to himself. "I'm more of a protector of the Dark. If it helps, just think of me as…" Trailing off, Harry turned to his secretary for help.

Smiling, Alouran finished, "Just think of him as your father."

Pleased, Harry turned toward the vampires with a sunny smile. It slowly fell from his face when all of the vampires stared back, unnaturally still. Then, all of them—save Luther—began to laugh, their heads thrown back and bodies shaking from the force of their mirth.

Harry was a little peeved to find himself being laughed at. Alouran hovered at his back, a similar frown of angering crossing his handsome face.

"They're laughing at me," Harry said in disbelief, dazed. He was used to reactions of fear or respect when people recognized his title, but laughter? And from his own children, no less? Although Harry wouldn't admit it, the mocking laughs stung.

"Harry, your blood," Alouran whispered, jaw quivering in anger. "Play to their senses, their baser instincts. Once they smell your blood, they won't be able to deny what you've told them."

Harry was listening to his friend intently, and when the incubus finished he gave a brief nod of understanding. He raised his thumb to his mouth and bit down hard, unable to hide his wince of pain. Blood immediately began to bloom from the bite. There was silence throughout the barn as the single drop of blood slid down Harry's outstretched hand to touch the floor with the force of a tsunami to the vampires.

All of the vampire's eyes had shifted to a brilliant gold, their eyes locked onto him but their fangs not extended. Satisfied, Harry muttered a quick healing spell at his cut and a Scourgify to clean up the blood.

The vampires all released a collective full-bodied shiver, their eyes turning back to their natural color. While Harry was pleased that he had stopped their laughing, the blank stares were beginning to unnerve him.

"I think you may have broken them," Alouran said slowly, looking at the vampires hesitantly.

Harry frowned, secretly afraid that he had done something wrong as well. It looked as if a basilisk had come and petrified them where they stood. Harry was half tempted to walk forward and push one of them over, just to see what would happen.

Finally, as if coming from a trance, the vampires moved—slowly at first, as if they had just awoken, and then more naturally as they walked across the barn to gather around Harry who still stood at the entrance.

Kate, Luther's mate, was the first to speak. Lips quivering, she gave a light gulp. "Daddy?"

Chuckling in amusement, Harry shared a glance with Alouran before turning back to the vampire, finally able to get a clear read on her soul. She was protective and loyal, but there was a bit of a sadistic streak imparted in her as well from something that happened to her in the past. She was tainted, yes, but not beyond the point of redemption.

"Yes, Kate?" Harry smiled warmly.

With a cry, she suddenly launched herself onto him the same way she had done with Luther—minus the kissing and groping, thankfully. Harry returned the hug easily, that familiar protectiveness that was now natural filling him.

"Okay, this is freaky," one of the male vampires whispered loudly and Harry's eyes locked onto him. A quick read of his soul showed the same as Kate—capable of love and loyalty but with a hint of violence. In fact, none of the vampires in the room were beyond redemption, which relieved Harry greatly.

"Shut up, Bo," Kate snapped, sniffing and stepping away from Harry with a smile.

"It's okay," Harry said. Everyone reacted differently to him—in Kate's case, she felt as if he were a father figure.

Not one to let such a comment slide, Alouran mocked, "Don't worry, Kate. He's just jealous because you got a hug and he didn't."

Bo sputtered vehemently, and Harry knew that if vampires had been able to blush, the man would be bright red. Everyone laughed at Bo's expense, causing a smile to appear on Harry's face. A few of the vampires continued to tease Bo, but Harry wasn't paying much attention, simply basking in the comforting feeling interacting with his children brought him.

Movement in the corner of the room caught his eye.

Turning toward it fully, Harry felt himself stiffening when he saw two humans, a male and a female, tied to a support beam with gags in their mouth. The humans were staring straight at him, and the fear and helplessness in their eyes made Harry shiver.

The vampires slowly noticed Harry's distraction and turned to look at what had captured his attention.

"Oh, how rude of us!" Kate exclaimed, looking embarrassed as she bustled over to the restrained humans. "Would you like something to eat? It's fresh."

Harry barely managed to keep a grimace off his face. "No, thank you. Human blood isn't my… my thing."

Kate frowned in disappointment, her shoulders drooping. "Oh, it's not every day we order take out."

Pity filled Harry for the humans, and he found himself unable to meet their wildly screaming eyes. He knew that this was just the way things were—the way he made things. Vampires hunted humans just as a fox hunted rabbits. Unfortunately, his human heart and 'saving people thing' couldn't allow him to accept it as the way of the world and move on.

Harry wouldn't condemn the vampires for being what they were, but he would also do his best to make sure that the humans were able to leave without harm.

Luther walked over to the muggles and examined them closely. "You picked these out, honey buns?"

Kate grinned at the nickname and nodded happily.

"The man isn't anything special," Luther dismissed, taking the woman's face in his hands. "But her… her I like." The woman flinched violently at Luther's touch and began to sob soundlessly, but the vampire paid her no mind,

Frowning, Harry found himself unable to put off questioning the muggles' fate. He walked over until he stopped behind Kate and Luther, the pair once more making goo-goo eyes at each other.

Harry cleared his throat pointedly, gaining their attention. With a pointed glance at the humans, he asked, "What are you going to do with them?"

Luther turned back toward the humans, a speculative look in his eyes. "Well, we'll probably kill the man and add the woman to our coven."

"What?" Harry hissed, his eyes dropping to the humans when they began struggling desperately, their cries muffled by their gags. "No, I will not allow it."

Surprised, Luther inclined his head. "And why's that?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak but closed it with a snap when he finally noticed a cage in the darkest corner of the barn. He swore he thought he saw a shadow move and—there! There was another shifting of something, causing his eyes to narrow.

"Harry?" Luther turned to look where Harry was staring. The vampire's eyes lit up before a dark grin transformed his face into something sinister. "Ah, that's our petting zoo."

"Petting zoo?" Harry echoed hollowly, having a very good idea of what he would find if he went over for a closer look.

Kate giggled and skipped over to the cages, a chuckling Luther following behind her. After hesitating for several beats, Harry too trekked over, his heart growing colder for every step he took nearer.

When he was finally close enough to see through the thick shadows, Harry raised a horrified hand to his nose. This specific corner of the barn was thick with the smell of human waste and fear. It was so pungent that Harry's eyes burned; despite the hand he had over his face to block the smell.

Even though their sense of smell was heightened, Luther and Kate appeared perfectly at ease with the smell. Kate had found a rusted prodding iron and was poking at the frightened humans inside the cage gleefully, cackling as she did so.

It was almost enough to make Harry crack. The only thing that stopped his magic from exploding violently was a calming hand on his shoulder and a familiar voice near his ear. "Harry, calm down."

When Harry blinked, he realized belatedly that he had blacked out for a second, his magic untangling from his body to lick the air violently. Kate had fallen on her backside in fear and Luther didn't appear much better, his hand clutching desperately at a nearby beam to keep from falling to the ground.

Breathing deeply, Harry reined in his magic, flashing a grateful look to Alouran over his shoulder. His secretary returned it hesitantly, concern shining in his eyes. Harry merely nodded his head to tell him that he had come back to himself.

A quick glance around the barn showed that all of the vampires had noticed his loss of magical control, all of them staring at him in varying degrees of awe and fear. Harry met each and every one of their stares evenly, feeling no sympathy when they all quailed under his fiery gaze.

"I'm disappointed in you all."

With that one simple sentence, Harry turned his back on them and walked out of the barn, not even glancing over his shoulders.

Silence reigned inside for several tense minutes before Bo gave a strained chuckle, looking at his coven in shock. "Well, s-shit."

No one had anything better to say, so they didn't say anything at all.

o0o

Harry hadn't gone far; he just needed to get his head on straight before he was able to face the vampires again without feeling overwhelming disappointment. Vampires hunted humans, that Harry could understand and accept—but caging them? Having them wallow around in their own waste and prodding them for enjoyment? That was no better than how wizards had treated Dark creatures before Harry came along and changed things.

To find beings he naturally considered his own behaving so savagely… It had almost been enough to snap the dubious control he had over his chaotic magic. From the looks on the vampire's faces, he had to have been emitting some very strong negative emotions.

The sound of foliage being trod through reached Harry's ears, but thinking it was just his friend to come find out what happened to him, he didn't pay it much mind.

"Harry?" Luther's smooth voice flitted through the trees, causing Harry to turn away from the few stars he could see through the canopy.

"Luther," Harry acknowledged when the leader of the vampires stepped into the small clearing Harry found. The man's face was hesitant and wary. With a sigh, Harry scooted over on the fallen log on which he sat and patted the empty space.

Luther shifted from foot to foot hesitantly, causing Harry to roll his eyes. "I'm not going to bite, Luther. Back at the barn—I just reacted badly, is all."

The vampire locked gazes with him for a long moment before nodding, coming to sit beside the young King.

For several minutes the two simply sat, the only sounds being the rustling of the wind or natural wildlife in the forest. Luther was the first to speak.

"I'm sorry."

Harry sighed heavily, brushing his bangs from his face. "Do you even know what you're apologizing for?"

"Yes," Luther answered quietly, head bowed. Harry tried to look at him, but the vampire's brown locks managed to shield his face. "For the way I treat my foo—the humans. It's… cruel."

"If you know it's wrong, then why do you do it?" Harry was being neither judgmental nor chastising. He was merely trying to understand what caused someone who he knew to have humanity to treat living beings so callously.

Sighing, Luther shook his head and stared up at the sky. "Humans—no, hunters." Luther hissed the word as if it were the vilest thing on the planet. "They treat us like animals! They claim that they're purging the world of evil, but they… they're no better than us!"

Harry could see Luther's shoulders trembling with barely suppressed emotions, but Harry offered no words of comfort. If Luther wanted to elaborate on what he said, then he would, and if not… Harry would accept that as well.

Through clenched teeth, Luther continued, "Hunters… killed my first family. When I was first turned, it was by my maid. I never even knew she was a vampire until she turned me after I—after I… tried to kill myself." Luther hung his head in shame, and finally Harry allowed himself to place a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. He gave a choked cry at the touch, a shiver wracking his body that traveled all the way up Harry's hands.

"It's kind of funny, y'know?" Luther snorted, laughing brokenly. "I tried to kill myself, and what do I get for it? Immortality! At first I thought it was my punishment, but she… she took care of me. She had another girl like me, and for a while, we were a family… until, of course, the hunters came."

Luther's voice had grown hollow and Harry gave his shoulder another firm squeeze, offering what little solace he could.

"The hunter's killed my family, but I escaped." Luther stared at his hands blankly, lost in memories of days long gone. "After I escaped, I laid low for a while. I was terrified of… of having my head cut off like the others. However, it was when I found Kate when I truly began to loathe hunters.

"She was like me—on the run after her family had been killed. Unlike me, though… the ones who killed her family managed to catch up to her. They… they tortured her!" Luther suddenly shouted, his fingers clenched so tightly he drew blood. The red liquid rolled down his hands and into the grass, but the vampire paid it no mind. "They said she deserved it. That… that that's what she got for being something she couldn't control! I found them just when they were about to kill her… and I slaughtered them. I bathed in their blood and I enjoyed every second of it."

When Luther finished his tale, without hesitation, Harry pulled the other man down into a hug, whispering soothing words when the vampire choked helplessly, unable to shed the tears that so desperately wanted to fall.

"It's okay," Harry whispered quietly, stroking Luther's brown mane slowly. He felt the larger man relaxing into his embrace, the iron grip he once had on Harry's shirt slackening. "I understand. I know that feeling all too well."

Luther reared back in shock, his eyes bloodshot but completely dry. "You do?"

Chucking, Harry nodded. "Yes. Someone killed all of my friends and family, and I hated him. I wanted nothing more in the world than to torture him to the brink of insanity before sending him to hell. Unfortunately," Harry said with a snort, "his sanity was long gone."

"So what did you do…?"

"I killed him of course." Harry grinned, although it was tinged with something darker. "I had finally gotten the revenge I so desperately wanted, but…"

"It wouldn't bring them back," Luther finished, his voice low and somber.

"Yes," Harry sighed, closing his eyes as images flashed quickly through his brain. "Humans aren't to blame for what you went through, Luther. The one's who did it were human, yes, but they're only a miniscule portion of the world. You can't take your pain out on those who don't deserve it."

The two merely sat in silence, Luther's mind slowly absorbing what Harry told him. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and regretful.

"I—I can't release them. They've seen our faces—they know what we are."

Harry cracked open an eye, frowning. "Then why don't you simply erase their memories?"

Luther stared at Harry blankly. "Because I… can't?"

"You can't?" Harry frowned, sitting up straight. "But… all vampires can. What about the lure, can you use that?"

"Lure?" Luther asked blankly. "Harry, what are you talking about?"

"Bloody hell! No wonder things are so bad in America!" Sighing, Harry ran a hand through his hair. "All vampires can use an ability called a 'lure' which is a low-pitched frequency that can only be made by vampires. When heard by a human, they become entranced by the sound and will follow it."

"And... we can erase memories as well?"

"Hey, I created you by proxy," Harry argued, sensing that Luther didn't believe him. "I think I'd know what you were capable of."

That seemed to ease a bit of the doubt, but Harry could tell that the vampire still didn't believe him. "Okay, how about this? If you promise you'll clean up the cages and not kill any of the humans, I'll teach you how to use both—but afterwards, you'll have to let the humans go with their memories wiped."

Seeing how much knowing those two abilities could benefit the survival of his coven, Luther agreed, albeit reluctantly.

o0o

The next morning, Harry awoke from his asleep with a yawn, secretly pleased that it had been nightmare free. Even after all this time, the weight of his failures in the wizarding world sometimes returned to him in his dreams.

After Harry's little outburst, the vampire's party mood had been snuffed. Not wanting to be a party pooper, Harry tried his best to once more get it started, but it was Alouran's natural charisma that brought the party back from the grave. At 2 AM, Harry decided he had enough and told everyone he was going back to the motel to sleep.

Alouran had offered to come with him, but Harry saw how much fun the incubus was having and didn't want to ruin his good time.

Now, the incubus was probably regretting that decision because as soon as Harry slid off his bed, a deep groan of pain sounded from the other side of the room. Apparently, sometime in the early morning, Alouran had snuck back inside and was now trying to sleep off the effects of too much partying.

"Be quiet," the incubus grouched, the thick motel duvet he wrapped himself in shifting slightly. "Hangover plus super hearing equals pain."

Harry snorted but tiptoed softly to the bathroom, only to shut the door loudly behind him. Alouran released a high shriek and Harry laughed, the man on the other side of the door throwing insults and empty threats before he slunk once more into an alcohol-induced slumber.

Still chuckling, Harry showered and changed and got ready for the day. He dressed simply in a pair of black low riding jeans, a white t-shirt, and a leather jacket that Al had got for him after insulting Harry's fashion sense. After a quick breakfast, he was out the door and into the cool morning air, back on his way toward the vampire nest.

He still found himself hard pressed to sense them with his magic, but it was a step up from yesterday when he hadn't been able to sense them at all. As Harry walked toward where he felt the vampires, he wondered what he was going to do.

Firstly, he needed to figure out what was screwing with his powers. It obviously had something to do with America and something to do with creatures of the Dark. Whatever it was, it was as if Harry was cloaked in a suffocating blanket, his abilities unable to penetrate it.

What was more, he had to do something about hunters killing everything. There were no magical communities in America to go to for help—the hunters chased them all away. Going to the muggle government would do no good either as hunters were no more than vigilantes.

To stop them… what would it take? Would it take an all out war, or could Harry find some way to solve this diplomatically? Every day he dillydallied was another possible chance for the hunters to attack one of his creatures.

Huffing in frustration, he shook his head. He needed more information, and until he got it, he was relatively at an impasse.

Harry paused suddenly as he came across a car—a sleek black thing that glinted from the light allowed by the canopy. When Harry passed through last night, he was pretty sure there hadn't been a car there… but maybe it belonged to one of the vampires.

Shrugging, Harry stepped around the contraption and continued on his journey. In no time at all he was back outside the barn house, only this time it was quiet, no sounds of partying evident. Harry mused that they were probably still asleep… or just now going to sleep. They were nocturnal after all.

A quick peek through an open window showed him what he already suspected. The vampires had set up hammocks all throughout the barn and they released soft snores as they slept. Harry watched with a fond small before turning to walk away, wishing to leave them to their rest.

The sound of shuffling footsteps and hushed voices made him pause.

This time more cautiously, Harry once more looked through the window and sucked in air through his teeth. Humans—for he could feel no Darkness from them—were conversing amongst themselves quietly as they wandered around, appearing to be searching for something.

With a quick disillusionment charm, Harry snuck inside the barn and hid behind the nearest stack of old boxes, peering at the intruders warily. There were three of them: a short one who appeared to have found the caged humans, a tall one who was speaking to the tied up couple in whispered tones, and an older looking one who wandered over to where Kate and Luther slept.

Harry barely held in a curse as his mind raced. The tall one and the short one was going to release the humans! Did that mean they were hunters? Or maybe muggle police that thought they were dealing with kidnappers?

A sleek black vehicle flashed through Harry's mind. No… that was no police car. Then did that mean these men were hunters…?

Still reluctant, Harry removed his wand from a holster strapped to his leg. The human's all had their minds blanked previously courtesy of Harry, so they wouldn't be a liability if they were released. But the three humans… they had found Luther's coven.

Who's to say they wouldn't come back later once the prisoners were secured? If they were hunters, it could be dangerous to let them get away. And, well… if it turned out they were just normal muggles, Harry could always give them a good Obliviate and set them free.

Mind made up, Harry stepped out of his hiding spot just as the tall one got the ropes free of the couple and the short one managed to break the lock to the cage. Aiming his wand, Harry launched a stunning spell at the tall man.

The man looked up just in time to see the red light connect with his face, knocking him out instantly. The woman who he had been helping yelled in fright, drawing the short one's attention.

"Sam! Sammy!" The short one was at 'Sam's' side instantly, checking him for a pulse and breathing a sigh of relief when he found one. Eyes narrowed, he rose to his feet and pulled a gun from behind his back.

"Go," he said to the freed humans, jerking his head toward the door. They all eyed him warily until he snapped again. "Go! Now!"

Finally obeying, Harry watched impassively as the humans ran through the barn doors and disappeared from his sights.

Mr. Shorty had his gun pointed in Harry's general direction, but he knew the man couldn't see him.

"Where are you?" Mr. Shorty snarled angrily, searching feebly for his partner's assailant.

Growing tired of seeing the man squirm, Harry fired another stunner at his exposed back. He was caught completely off guard when the man rolled smoothly, avoiding the spell before he righted himself on one knee and fired a shot that literally brushed past Harry's ear.

It took all of Harry's restraint not to curse loudly. Heart hammering, he quickly scuttled from where he stood and hid behind another support beam, firing another hex that was dodged easily. The man reacted like a fully-trained Auror—he had to be a hunter!

"Dean!"

The old one came from Kate and Luther's part of the barn, holding something in his hands that Harry couldn't see. He apparently heard the gunshot and was looking at the vampires warily, wondering if they would wake up.

One snorted and rolled over, but they all remained sleeping.

"Dad," 'Dean' acknowledge, his gun still pointed at where Harry's spell had come from, although he seemed to relax now that his 'father' was near him. "We need to get outta here. There's something here and it knocked out Sammy."

Harry couldn't let them escape, but he didn't know if he'd be able to catch them off guard now that they knew something was targeting them.

Dean's father picked up Sam and slung the tall body over his shoulder easily. "I got the Colt," the older man nodded, patting his chest with his free hand that wasn't around Sam's waist.

Returning the nod, Dean covered his father's back as they hastily made their way toward the barn entrance.

Deciding to go for the easy target, Harry leveled his wand with the man carrying Sam and began shooting off different hexes, hoping at least one found its mark.

"Dad, look out!"

The man turned just in time to avoid the first stunner Harry had sent him, and then avoided a disarming hex by jumping suddenly to the side. Harry's cutting hex him got him right in the back of the leg, tearing open a deep wound on his left thigh. With only a cry of pain the men continued running, escaping through the barn doors.

Growling, Harry stood in the open doorway and fired hex after hex at their retreating backs, but was forced to give up when they disappeared into the cover of the forest. He yearned to chase after them, but he couldn't leave the nest unprotected in case there were more of them.

So those were hunters…

Harry was slowly beginning to understand why they were so feared.


	5. Predators and Prey

_A/N: _Okay, I'm a liar. I said I wasn't updating for a while... yet here I am only a day later. You see, the reason for that is a lot of the complaints I got yesterday about Harry's lack of competence and powers. Yes, I portrayed him badly last chapter, and for that I apologize. It wasn't my intentions.

I usually don't apologize for what I've written (and I shouldn't have to...) but I just felt like this warranted one. Do NOT get used to it.

Hopefully THIS chapter gives a better impression of Harry than the one before. Also, this is my first time writing Dean and Sam, so go easy on me...

**o0o**

After making sure the hunters wouldn't be coming back, Harry smacked himself for being so daft. He could have handled those hunters—and quite easily at that. Instead, he had reacted like a startled third year, and not like the great King everyone thought him to be.

If that had been a real battlefield…

Harry stopped himself from thinking as images of friends long past flashed behind his closed eyes. No, _that_ would not happen. He wouldn't hesitate if it came to the point of the vampires being in danger.

Resolved strengthened, Harry put a muggle-repelling charm around the barn that would cause all normal humans who saw it to simply ignore and avoid it. It was a feeble defense at best, but it was a start and would hopefully prevent an ambush in the future.

With that done, Harry awoke Luther from his slumber, pointedly ignoring the man's state of undress and explained all that had happened up to that point. Harry watched as Luther's expression went from that of annoyance at being awakened to angry that hunters had been inside _his_ nest.

Harry told him about how they freed the humans and how they escaped with something they called the 'Colt'. Luther's face seemed to turn even paler if possible, fear appearing in his eyes before he began searching the area where he slept with Kate desperately.

"Luther?" Harry frowned, watching as the vampire pulled open drawers and tore boxes to shred in his search. Finally, the vampire released a roar of frustration and kicked over a box filled with junk, the contests spilling to the floor.

Harry watched the mini-breakdown with pursed lips, waiting for the vampire's shoulders to stop shaking before he spoke. "Luther… are you okay? What did they take? What's this 'Colt'?"

Luther finally turned to him, and the look in his eyes told Harry that he would not like the news. "The Colt is a gun."

"A gun?" Harry couldn't understand why Luther would fear a gun. Yes, Harry had almost gotten shot and knew that they were dangerous… but they weren't really a threat to a vampire.

"Yes, a gun. The Colt isn't just an ordinary gun, though. It's special."

"Special how?" Harry asked slowly. He had a pretty good idea, but he was reluctant to voice his suspicions out loud. Such a thing should be impossible…

"The Colt… it… it can kill _anything_."

As if doused with cold water, Harry felt a shiver travel down his spine. For such a weapon to exist—Harry just couldn't wrap his mind around it. But the fear on Luther's face, that was not faked.

A gun that can kill anything…

…and it was currently in the hunter's possession.

The weight of his failure at stopping the hunters doubled.

"Bloody hell…"

**o0o**

The air was charged with electricity as the two opposing sides stared down at the other, each silently willing the other to relent. Sam stood beside his father, who had the Colt raised and aimed at the other side of the barn. Next to their father stood Dean, a sharp edged machete clutched tightly in his hand. Sam had a machete as well, but it was held loosely in his relaxed arm, the tip almost scratching the floor.

On the other side of the room stood the vampires they had seen sleeping earlier—except with two new additions: a tall black-haired man in a dark trench coat along with a short boy with stunning green eyes and messy black hair.

Surprisingly, it was the black-haired boy who broke the tense stalemate.

"Lower your weapons, hunters, we don't want any violence."

Dean snorted, tightening his grip on his weapon as if to spite them. "Like hell we'll buy that you demented sharp-teethed bastards!"

One of the vampires snarled, but quieted with a simple raised hand from the black-haired boy. His green eyes slowly slid toward Dean, the short hunter's face twisting slightly before settling on a cool grin.

"Dean," the kid—because he looked no older than sixteen—sighed and shook his head. "Haven't we already gone over this? We mean you no harm." Voice hardening, he repeated again, "Now lower your weapons so we can discuss this like civilized beings."

Such a commanding voice coming from someone so young was on odd sight. The Winchesters all paused, each one wondering who this green-eyed child was.

"Civilized beings?" their father snarled, face blank but eyes unforgiving. "I don't think so." The sound of the Colt being cocked was startlingly loud in the quiet barn. The gun was pointed squarely at the one who seemed to be the youngest, but also their leader.

The vampires hissed, backing up lightly as they prepared to spring into action if need be—but Sam could see it. Their fear, their hatred, their uncertainty. They were against the ropes and they knew it, but the two who stood out from the group were oddly calm.

The one wearing the trench coat took a bold step forward, the Colt instantly turning on him. Despite the imminent threat of death, he spoke without fear. "You _really_ don't want to do this—you guys honestly have no idea the can of worms you're opening." When it seemed as if his words were falling on deaf ears, he bared his teeth in a feral snarl. "You stupid, arrogant, slimey—"

"Alouran," the shortest one whispered, placing a hand on the fuming man's arm. "That's enough. I've dealt with worse than this when trying to approve the DCIA, yeah? Everyone in that room wanted me dead as well. I can handle this." The man relaxed his glare, but his stance still showed his readiness to attack. "Trust me."

Nodding, Alouran took a reluctant step backward.

"Please," the green-eyed boy said, face open and earnest. "Just lower your weapon and we can _talk_ about this. Nobody dies, nobody gets hurt."

Dean looked willing to at least consider it and Sam had already agreed internally, but their father had finally reached the limit of his patience. "Sorry," the man whispered, voice entirely unapologetic. "But I'm afraid I don't _negotiate_ with the enemy."

The Colt firing was like an explosion in the previously quiet room. There was a crackling sound like electricity as the bullet connected, the sound of sizzling flesh permeating the room. The wounded gave a startled jerk of surprise before falling backwards, dead before they hit the ground.

One of the female vampires screamed. "Luther!" She tried to go to his side, but she was held back, pitiful sobs escaping her as she reached futilely for her dead mate.

At the last second, one of the vampires had knocked the green-eyed boy out of the way, taking the bullet in his steed. The boy watched the vampire fall, his eyes growing impossibly wide… and then, slowly… they bled to black.

Dean sucked in a quiet breath. "He's a demon!"

At his son's shout, John aimed his gun at the once green eyed boy and fired. The bullet sailed through the air in a blink, perfectly aimed to connect between his eyes. However, the bullet stopped mid-flight to the astonishment of all before dropping harmlessly to the ground.

"What just happened?" Sam whispered, unable to believe his eyes.

"I don't know," Dean said, just as quietly. "Dad?"

The man didn't respond, having no answer.

As if noticing them for the first time, the boy looked at their father, his expression of blank confusion shifting to that of rage. From nowhere, wind began to pick up, rattling the walls and throwing anything that was too weak to stand up to the sudden winds around violently.

"Shit, let's get out of here!"

Sam wasn't sure who said it, but he was glad to hear it nonetheless. He turned to run toward the open barn doors, but a sudden pressure lifted him from his feet and slammed him painfully into a wall. Another solid thump sounded beside him, Dean also restrained against the wall helplessly.

In the center of the maelstrom, their father levitated before the black-eyed boy, hands clawing at an invisible force at his throat.

"Dad!" Sam tried to break free of whatever held him pinned to the wall, but he couldn't. He could only watch on in helplessness as the scene played out before him.

The man in the trench coat tried to intervene, but a sudden barrier knocked him off his feet and prevented him from moving any closer. It was only the black-eyed boy and their father—no one else could interfere.

John's leg snapped suddenly, the entire knee turning at an angle impossible for human bones. The man released a hoarse scream, his mouth open and eyes screwed shut. Sam and Dean screamed as well, shouting helplessly for their father and for the demon to _stop_.

Their pleas were ignored.

With another snap, their father's other leg was broken in the same manner, the entire bone simply twisting as if of its own will.

Once more, screams filled the air.

Tears streamed down Sam's face as he watched his father slowly being tortured, the demon that had once appeared to be a peaceful teen now slowly killing his father with a blank face. Unable to watch the sick scene any longer, Sam closed his eyes, screaming to block out the sound of his father's bones breaking.

After what felt like hours, mercifully, John's screams ground to a stop. There was a solid thump as the body was dropped to the floor, but still Sam didn't open his eyes, not wanting to see the twisted lump that was now his father. Beside him, tears ran from Dean's eyes as well. He had watched the entire thing with eyes wide open, each twist of his father's body perfectly etched into his memory when finally, his father's life was ended as his neck snapped one-hundred eighty degrees. Dean's own throat was dry and hoarse from screaming, but still he tried until his father was nothing but a twisted mix of bones and flesh.

The demon's eyes returned to their normal color, a deep green that reminded Sam of open plains on a sunny day. But those innocent eyes were a deception—merely a guise for the cruel black-eyed beast that dwelled within.

Soft footsteps growing steadily closer forced Sam to open his eyes. He forced himself to look at the demon, not at that jagged ball that couldn't even be identified as once human. The demon's green eyes were soft and filled with unshed tears as he gazed at them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered quietly.

For some reason, the simple apology brought about a second onset of tears for Sam, but Dean was spitting mad, promising retribution and delivering twisted threats of torture so vile that they didn't sound like his brother at all.

"I tried to settle this peacefully," the demon said, eyes hard but swimming with emotion. "But he left me no choice. He threw the first stone. This is war, and all hunters must be eliminated."

With a whispered word, a green light blinded Sam and suddenly… Dean's threats were silenced. Gasping, Sam turned toward his brother, his eyes growing wide at the sight.

"Dean…?"

Dean didn't respond, his eyes open but dimmed. Sam watched desperately for some sign of life, but knew that his hope was for naught.

"I'm sorry."

Turning toward the demon, Sam could see the emotions in his eyes. Sadness, regret, anger… and something else that he couldn't identify. Before Sam could even question the demon, he repeated the same words that had taken his brother's life.

"Avada Kedavra."

And with that…

Sam…

…woke up.

**o0o**

"A vision?" John Winchester repeated blankly, stopping in his pacing to stare at his youngest son, no emotion showing on his face.

After being knocked unconscious when raiding the vampire nest, John and Dean had gone back to the hotel to plan and regroup. Since it would take a while for Dean to return with the dead man's blood, John had decided to let his son sleep whatever blow he took off rather than forcibly awaken him.

When Sammy began to shift in his sleep, he grew concerned. When tears began to pour from his eyes, he knew it was time to wake him. It wasn't an easy task. Whatever nightmare he was having, he was in it _deep_, but finally, he sat up with a gasp, mouth open and eyes dangerously wide.

John's concern for his son had quickly simmered away to anger when heard his son's rationalization of the nightmare.

"Yes, dad, a vision!" Sam huffed, watching his father pace from where he sat on the edge of the bed.

After awakening, he had been a little disoriented and still a little overwhelmed by the force of his vision, but slowly he was coming to terms with what he'd seen.

"A _vision_?" John repeated, working a path in the motel rug with his strides across the room. "An honest to goodness psychic vision? You sure you weren't just having a nightmare?"

"N-no," Sam sighed, eyes still haunted from what he had seen. "I've had nightmares before, dad, and that…? That wasn't one of them."

Sam was doing his beseeching puppy-dog eyes, _willing_ his father to believe him, and when his son did that, John found himself giving in—if only for the moment. He didn't want to fight with his son after being away from him so long, he really didn't.

"Alright," John said, causing Sam's head to jerk up in surprise. "So in this… vision, what did you see?"

"I—I saw…" Sam shuddered, his eyes glowing with so much pain and fear that John knew he would humor his son, no matter _how_ farfetched it sound. "I saw you die, dad," Sam whispered finally, staring up at his father seriously. "And then… they turned to me and Dean and killed us too."

"The demon?" John asked immediately.

"Not exactly…" At John's look, Sam quickly elaborated. "It was _a_ demon… but I don't think it was _the_ demon."

"Where was it? When did this happen?"

Sam hesitated, his eyes drifting to his lap. "It was here, dad." Sam's fist clenched as he tried to still the tremors which suddenly wracked his body. "I think… I think it happens soon."

Seeing how distressed his son was becoming, John sat on the bed next to him and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Okay, son. After we clean up the vampires here, we'll—"

"No!" Sam suddenly exploded, leaping to his feet. His face was almost feral as he turned to his father, eyes wide and shining with panic. "We have to leave _now_, forget the vampires! We'll just wait for Dean to get back and—"

A slap to the face silenced Sam instantly, his face titled to the side and mouth open in surprise. He raised a hand to his reddening cheek before turning to his father, pain and betrayal shining in his green eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," his father said strongly, "but a Winchester _never_ leaves a job unfinished. _Ever_."

Before Sam could even open his mouth, their motel room door opened and Dean strode in, shaking his head warily.

"Whew! Man, there's some heavy security to protect a lot of dead guys!" Noticing the atmosphere, Dean paused and narrowed his eyes. His gaze flickered from Sam, who was stilling holding his cheek, to their father, whose face was slightly regretful. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing," John sighed, turning to face Dean fully. He released another heavy sigh when Sam turned on his heel and disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Dean eyed the door Sam disappeared behind before turning back to his father, but the look on the man's face promised retribution should Dean ask.

"You get the blood?"

**o0o**

Dean and Sam were in the Impala, on their way to set up their ambush for the vampires. After Sam was knocked unconscious at the barn and woke up, he had been acting even more emotion and broody than usual—which was saying something.

Dean flashed his brother a concerned look out of the corner of his eye, taking in the way his right cheek appeared to be more irritated than the rest of his skin. And the way he had been holding it when Dean walked in after Sam and his father finished arguing…

Was it possible their father had struck Sammy? As soon as the thought crossed his mind it was dismissed. In all of their years growing up, their father had never once hurt them outside of training. But still… they had been arguing about something and it had his brother in a funk.

Surprisingly, it was Sam who started the conversation.

"Dean?"

Startled, Dean turned to him before once more focusing on the road. "Yeah?" He thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel, mentally preparing himself to sit through his brother's whining.

"I—I had another vision."

Dean's fingers tightened on the wheel minutely before relaxing and resuming his mindless drumming. "Oh? Is that what you and dad were fighting about?"

Sam's face was staring out the window when Dean tried to look at him, but the sigh he released was answer enough. "It doesn't matter. Dean, in my vision… we die. All of us."

It took all of Dean's focus not to suddenly swerve the car, shock lancing through him. "What? Are you sure?"

"No, Dean, it was our twins who looked exactly like us," Sam offered dryly. "Yes, I'm sure!"

"Glad to see you've still got some bitch left in you," Dean quipped, shoulders tense as he focused on the road and not on their supposed imminent death.

Sam sighed angrily, frustration creeping into his voice. "Dean, this is serious!"

"I know," Dean grouched, trying not to let on how unsettled he was that Sam saw them dying—saw them _all_ dying. Even the father who he thought of as infallible… "How does it happen? Is it the demon?"

"No, it's a different demon."

"What did it look like it?"

"It—it was a kid. A black-haired kid with green eyes."

"A kid?!" Dean couldn't stop himself from exploding, looking at Sam as if he were insane. "You mean to tell me that we're supposed to be wasted by a freaking _kid_?" At Sam's affirmation he groaned, shaking his head. "God, why couldn't the demon have possessed a seven-foot tall bodybuilder? At least then I could die with some dignity…"

Again, Sam sighed, rolling his eyes at his brother's lack of priorities. "He didn't kill us with his hands, he did it… mentally, I guess."

"So, what'd he do?" When Sam didn't reply, Dean glanced over at him. "Sammy?"

"He tortured, dad, Dean… It was like… he broke every major bone in his body before finally snapping his neck. Afterwards, he turned toward us and said he was sorry—that dad threw the first stone when he attacked. Then… he killed us."

"Woh, woh, woh! The demon _apologized_?"

"Yeah," Sam breathed, "I don't get it either."

"So, how did he torture us? Burn off our flesh? Pluck out our eyeballs? What?"

"First of all: ew. Second of all: that's just it." Sam sighed in frustration, leaning his forehead against the cool windowpane. "He _didn't_ torture us. He even… uh, looked like he was going to cry and said that he was at war with all hunters."

There was silence inside the car, the only noise being the smooth purr of the engine and the near silent sound of the tires sailing over the road.

"Dean?" Sam called weakly. When Dean glanced over this time, his brother was staring back at him, his green eyes wide and misting.

"Sammy?"

"I—I believed him."

"Believed who?"

"The demon. When he apologized and said he didn't want to kill us… I believed him."

The car screeched to a sudden stop as Dean pushed down on the break, not even bothering to check if someone was behind him. Properly stopped, Dean rounded on his brother, eyebrows drawn together in anger.

"Demon's _lie_, Sam! How could you even think that after you saw him torture dad?!"

Sam winced, but held Dean's stare firmly. "He tried to reason with us, Dean, but dad shot first!"

"Of course he shot first!" Dean exploded. "You don't _reason_ with demons! That's how they get you to sell your soul!"

"You don't understand! We were at the vampire nest, and the demon was trying to talk us out of killing them. But, dad shot anyway and one of the vampires sacrificed itself to protect him."

Dean stilled as he realized just how _close_ they were to the time of Sam's vision. He had thought it was _weeks_, hell, maybe even _months_ away. But to know that it could be in a mere few hours… the thought brought about a cold feeling in his chest.

Sam took his brother's silence for a sign that he was listening and continued to push. "Dean, I think we should leave well enough alone! We could just call dad and tell him the hunt is off and dr—"

"No," Dean interrupted firmly. "We won't leave a job half-finished, it's not our way."

"What did you say?" Sam asked quietly, staring at Dean as if he were a mythical creature never before seen.

"We can't leave a job half-finished."

Drawing back with his arms crossed tightly, Sam sniped, "When did you become dad?"

Instead of the compliment it should have been, Dean heard it for what it was. Anger beginning to fill his veins, he snarled, "Don't do this, Sammy. Not now."

Uncaring, Sam sneered. "You two are just alike. You won't give up the hunt for anything—even if it means _death_."

"Well maybe being like dad is a _good_ thing, Sam, huh?" Giving in to his anger, frustration and helplessness, Dean lashed out. "You ever think of that? If you were more like us, maybe then you wouldn't have walked out on your family!"

Dean's words found their mark and Sam reared back as if physically wounded. Slowly, his eyes narrowed into slits and Dean wished he could take the hurtful words back.

"I guess it's a good thing I'm not like you, huh?" Sam pushed open the passenger side door and Dean sucked in a startled breath when he realized what was happening. He hastily followed Sam onto the empty street where the tall hunter was already walking in the opposite direction of the vampire nest.

"Aw, Sammy, come on!" Dean called helplessly, trailing behind his younger brother like a lost puppy.

Sam paused, his shoulders shaking with barely repressed emotions. "I don't want to see you _or_ dad die, Dean. But if you go on this hunt…"

"We can change what happens in your visions, right? Sam, look at me!" When Sam looked turned to look at him, he spoke with as much conviction as he could muster. "No matter what happens tonight, I promise you… I will not die."

Sam blew out a frustrated breath and shook his head. "You don't know that, Dean, this demon—"

"Sammy! I _will not _die… Trust me; we'll change that vision you had."

Seeing the tension slowly leave his younger brother's body, Dean allowed a smile to light his face. Voice light to show that he was teasing, he tacked on, "If you want, I'll even pinky promise."

Sam's smile mirrored Dean's own. "Jerk."

"Bitch. Now come on, dad's probably waiting."

**o0o**

"There's a human in the forest. Looks like car trouble." Everyone turned as Bo walked through the open barn doors, a predatory smile on his face. Ever since their 'food' had been taken from them, all of the vampires were growing agitated over not having something to snack on when the mood struck them. In that way, they were almost like little children.

Kate lit up at the thought of capturing another human and she licked her lips. "Mm, maybe I can use that new 'lure' thing that Harry has been teaching us."

Bo groaned. "Please, don't. It sounds more like a banshee wail than a siren's song."

Harry chuckled, blanking his face when Kate shot a glare his way. It was the truth, though. Ever since Harry had Luther agree to accept his deal, he had begun training the vampires on how to use their dormant powers.

Usually a vampire was able to use their powers instinctively and slowly master them over time—but with Luther and his coven, it was a lot more difficult. Harry couldn't use the lure himself, so they had nothing to work off of, but he could at least train them in mind magic… which they were also slow to pick up on, unfortunately.

However, the mention of a car in the forest brought a certain black vehicle he had seen when the barn had been attacked to mind.

"Wait, Bo, did you get a look at the car?"

"Uh, yeah, actually I did. It was a sleek looking Impala. A real beut. I wouldn't mind riding her."

"That's what he said," Kate grinned.

Ignoring Kate pointedly, Harry wondered if it was the same car he had seen in the forest. He suddenly cursed his lack of knowledge on cars as he had no idea what an 'Impala' looked like. Sighing, Harry asked, "You won't mind if I read your mind to see it for myself, would you?"

Bo shrugged, although he appeared uncertain. "Sure. What do I have to do?"

"Just stand still," Harry whispered, removing his wand from its holster and pointing it toward the vampire. "_Legilimens_."

Since the car was still at the forefront of his mind, Harry didn't have to go far before he found the image he was looking for. The same metallic-black car he had seen previously flashed in his mind and he ended the spell, a grimace on his face.

"It's them… the hunters."

"So this is most likely a trap," Luther concluded, a similar look of distaste on his face.

Sensing the serious mood, Alouran _thankfully _refrained from making any inappropriate comments. "So," the incubus drawled blandly, "what do we do?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Well, I know there are three of them for sure. If Bo couldn't smell them, they must have found a way to hide their scents."

"Not only that," Luther growled, "they have the Colt."

"Ah, the all-kill gun," Harry said, "how could I have forgotten?" With a sigh, the young King walked over to an open window and stared out at the slowly setting sun. "It will be too dangerous for anyone to confront them directly… anyone but me, that is."

Alouran hissed, at his side instantly. "Harry, no! You can't do this!"

Harry glared at the incubus, causing him to waver slightly. "In case you've forgotten, Al, they have the Colt! With just one shot from that thing you'll be dead. I, at least, can pass as human. If I can capture one, we can use him as a bargaining chip for the colt."

"Harry," Alouran whined. "I don't think I like this."

"Me either," Harry admitted, chuckling ruefully. "But it's the best plan we've got—unless of course someone has anything better?"

No one did.

"I thought so." When everyone continued to stare glumly, Harry gave them a fierce grin. "Don't look so down! You'll find that I don't die so easily."

**o0o**

Harry walked out of the safety the thick forest provided and into the clearing where a man was leaning over his car with the hood up. Harry easily recognized the car as the one he saw earlier. Eyes narrowing, his gaze swept around the trees surrounding them. Somewhere, the two other hunters were watching. He could feel them watching him, but he couldn't pinpoint their location.

Sighing, he schooled his face and walked over to where the man was cursing at the engine to his car. He had placed a minor glamour charm over himself, so his hair was now blonde and his eyes were blue. It was superficial at best, and anyone who knew him intimately could still recognize him.

"Car trouble? Maybe I can help." Harry didn't know the first thing about cars but that didn't matter in the slightest at the moment.

The man spun around suddenly and Harry had to stifle gasp. Up close, he was able to see the attractive features that had been hidden to him in the dim barn. He had dark brown hair that seemed sandy blond in the light, a rugged face dark with stubble, and piercing dusty green eyes.

But that wasn't what had him so shocked. Harry could read this man's soul; a feat that should be impossible unless they were one of his children. And this man was one-hundred percent human.

The man's soul, in a word, was beautiful. It was unique mix of good and evil that had Harry instantly intrigued. The man, while not only kind and faithful, he could also be ruthless and unforgiving. It reminded Harry of a Lioness—but that was_ far_ too feminine to do this man justice.

Harry had to remind himself that this man was a hunter—the enemy. Otherwise, he might give in to whatever the connection he felt was trying to tell him.

When their eyes locked, the hunter—Dean, if Harry recalled correctly—gave a bit of a jolt and backed away. It was a rather curious reaction, and Harry raised a brow upon seeing it. Did the man feel the connection as well, or was it something else?

"Christo."

Harry blinked. "Excuse me?"

Coughing, Dean shook his head, eyes darting repeatedly to the forest. Harry followed his gaze, knowing that somewhere out there the other hunters were waiting.

Seeing that Harry was following his darting eyes, Dean gave a sudden smile. "No thanks, kid. I got it."

Though internally annoyed at being called 'kid', Harry kept his face schooled into an open and friendly expression. "I insist. I know a thing or two about cars and it looks like you could use the help."

The man pulled a flask from his jacket, but Harry thought nothing of it… that is, until the contents of said flask were splashing against his face.

Harry jerked back in surprise, gasping as he felt the water drip down into his shirt. "What the hell was that for?" Harry yelled, shaking to dispel what little water he could.

"Sorry," Dean frowned, although he looked more confused than upset. "You just looked a little parched."

Harry didn't know if he was being insulted or not, so he decided to brush it off. Now wasn't the time to worry about the man's odd behavior. He needed to find a way to incapacitate Dean without his buddies in the forest finding out.

For that to happen, Harry would have to get them out of the clearing and into the woods. A simple mind control spell would work, but Harry was more about free will than anything. If this was going to happen, it would be through coercion and trickery. Just as wrong, but easier for him to accept.

"Thanks… I guess," Harry said finally, brushing a wet bang from his face. "If you need to use a phone, my house is—"

"Look, kid, I appreciate the offer but—"

"Harry."

"What?"

"Not 'kid', Harry."

An annoyed look crossed Dean's face but there was a hint of amusement as well. "Okay then, _Harry_. I appreciate the offer but I'm fine on my own. Got it?"

Harry wanted to be upset that the man was so paranoid, but he couldn't because he _did_ have ulterior motives. Seeing that offering help wouldn't get him anywhere, Harry decided to take a page out of Alouran's book and prey on the man's hunter instincts.

Schooling his face into reluctant acceptance, Harry turned to walk away before freezing. "What was that?"

Dean titled his head, straining to hear the imaginary thing Harry did. "I don't hear anything."

Turning to Dean and biting his lip, Harry tried his best to look vulnerable and uncertain. His Slytherin acting abilities seemed to get the job done for Dean softened, mouth opening to offer words of reassurance when Harry jerked again.

This time, Harry was staring in an entirely different direction—the direction of the coven. "Over there," he hissed.

Before Dean could react, Harry was running off, pleased when hurried footsteps followed after him.

"Kid! Harry, wait!"

Harry ignored the cry, easily putting distance between himself and the hunter as the latter was unused to navigating the terrain. When Harry felt as if he put adequate distance between he and whatever other hunters might have been in the forest, he allowed himself to stop.

It was only moments later when Dean caught up to him, surprisingly not very out of breath.

"What did you see?" Dean gasped out, gun pulled from nowhere and pointed at the forest surrounding them.

Harry turned toward Dean with an amused grin, watching as the hunter surveyed the area critically. With a simple wave of his hand the hunter was too busy surveying the area to notice, Harry cast a wandless and nonverbal binding curse. Dean stiffened immediately, his arms and legs snapping together before he fell backward.

Harry stood over the downed hunter and raised his brow when Dean appeared to be trying to communicate through his eyes.

"What's that? I can't hear you."

At Dean's angry blinks, Harry laughed before levitating the body behind him and trekking back to the vampire nest.


	6. The Price of a Life

_A/N: _Once more, I must say: wow! I am so appreciate to all of the support this story has gotten so far, and it just continues to blow me away.

This chapter was actually very different from what I had originally planned, but I actually prefer this path more. I don't have a lot to say--just that I hope I didn't manage to screw the characterization of anyone up. Dean was especially hard to write, and I'm still not entirely convinced I've gotten him down.

Anyway, please leave a review telling me what you think and I hope you enjoy it!

**o0o**

As Harry walked back toward the vampire nest, he couldn't help but sneak quick glances at the bound hunter levitating beside him. The man's leather jacket was falling off his shoulders, and the black shirt he wore underneath it was riding up, revealing a tantalizing expanse of skin.

Harry had to physically restrain himself from doing something totally inappropriate, like molesting the hunter while he was immobile. He didn't even know where the sudden urges were _coming _from. Ever since the love of his life died, he thought he'd simply become asexual.

But now here he was having random sexual urges, and for a man who hunted his creations for a living no less. It just didn't make any _sense_.

Huffing, Harry pointedly ignored the peak of abs underneath Dean's shirt and the light trail of hair that disappeared into the man's pants. His mouth _was not _watering, and he _was not _walking a little awkwardly, thank you very much.

After arriving at the nest, Harry was greeted with concern and relief from both his secretary and the other vampires. He was at first a little annoyed that they appeared to have so little faith in him, but it was tempered by the knowledge that they were more concerned for his safety rather than doubtful of his abilities.

When they were sure Harry was perfectly fine, all eyes shifted to the still body of the floating hunter. Dean was eying all that he could, but petrified as he was, he had no choice but to accept whatever they decided to do to him docilely.

"So," Luther drawled dangerously, "this is the hunter who snuck into my nest?" The leader of the coven loomed over Dean threateningly, a dark grin on his face. He moved a hand forward to touch the helpless hunter.

"Don't touch him."

Luther stilled immediately at the order and he flashed Harry a dubious look.

"We can't hurt him," Harry explained quickly, although that hadn't been the reason he didn't want anyone touching the hunter. "If his friends see him in anything but pristine condition, they may react unpredictably."

That seemed to console the vampire and he backed down reluctantly.

"So, what do we do with him?" Alouran asked.

Harry could just leave Dean as he was until the other hunters came out of hiding, but there were some things Harry wanted to talk to the man about.

"We restrain him. I have a few things I want to ask him, but as he is now he might as well be a vegetable."

Harry levitated Dean over to a wooden chair and couldn't help but notice the irony. Dean had previously rescued someone tied to that chair, and now it would be him who was in their position. With a whispered _finite_, Dean slumped sluggishly into the chair before he was restrained bodily by ropes that bound him with a mind of their own.

Dean was moving immediately, struggling futilely against the ropes and using his newfound speech to fling curses. Harry watched the hunter's efforts to free himself in amusement before stepping forward, causing the man to freeze and look at him. He had canceled the glamour charm masking his appearance, and Dean's eyes flickered from his once more black hair to his naturally glowing green eyes.

"Hello, Dean," Harry said, tilting his head pleasantly.

Dean's face twisted into a grimace. "You rat bastard, you tricked me!"

Alouran rolled his eyes and tutted. "State the obvious much?"

Harry shot his friend a mock admonishing glare before returning his focus back on Dean who looked as if he was trying to melt the flesh from Harry's bone with his glare. "We're not the enemy, Dean," Harry sighed quietly, knowing how_ that_ would sound after they went out of their way to capture him.

"I should have known," Dean snarled, ignoring him completely. "A shape shifter. Silver was the only thing I didn't test on you!"

"I can't shape shift, I merely used a glamour charm." Harry rolled his eyes when Dean just continued to stare at him defiantly, clearly not believing him. "I should introduce myself. My name is Harry Potter, and I'm the King of Dae. Do you know what that is?"

Dean stared him straight in the eye, no sign of fear evident. "A title for an uptight prick?"

Harry's lip twitched upward, but the growls coming from the vampires showed that they didn't appreciate Dean's attempt at humor. A quick glance back showed that they were clearly on edge, some of them standing with their lips pulled back in a sneer while others just glared hatefully. Harry was sure that his presence was the only thing keeping Dean alive—Colt or no.

"No," Harry chuckled, "that's not what it is. Well—some may argue that it is, but I digress. As the King of Dae, I'm basically… the God of all Dark creatures, for lack of better example."

"Well, well, someone's full of themselves," Dean quipped mildly.

Harry shrugged. "It's the truth."

Dean snorted, visibly unconvinced.

"There's not much I can do to prove it to you, so you'll just have to take my word for it…" When Dean appeared as if he had lost all interest in the conversation, Harry groaned in frustration. Muggles were much like wizards in that they were very set in their ways. Even if something were to appear right in front of them, they wouldn't believe it because it was thought to be 'impossible' or some other rubbish. The only way to convince them was to clear their doubts, one by one until they had nothing left to hide behind and force them to accept the truth.

"Alright," Harry sighed. "You said silver was the only thing you didn't test on me, right?" Without waiting on a response, Harry leaned forward and began rummaging through the restrained hunter's pockets. Dean cried out in outrage and Harry admitted he may have copped a feel or two. Finally, Harry found what he was looking for and withdrew a sterling silver knife from Dean's pocket. The hunter watched on in confusion as Harry took to knife and dragged it lightly across his skin, breaking the skin.

Before the wound could truly bleed, Harry healed the cut before an astonished Dean's eyes. "See?" he grinned cheekily.

"Your wound…" Dean whispered, eyes still on the area of Harry's arm where a cut should be bleeding sluggishly. "How did you do that?"

"Magic, of course."

Dean jerked against his ropes. "A witch…"

Harry raised a brow at the suspicious reaction but chose not to comment on it. "A wizard, actually, but not much difference I suppose."

"So you're a witch. What do you want with me? Gonna turn me into beef stew for your freaky black magic rituals?" Dean spat the words at him, and Harry was vaguely amused at the man's sudden look of disgust and wariness. He had thought he was making progress with getting Dean to believe him, but it looked as if he had yet another obstacle to overstep.

"No," Harry said slowly, treating Dean as if he were a slow child. "I don't know what type of idea you have of _wizards—_you know, since I'm male—but you have it all wrong."

"Don't screw with me; I've seen _The Blair Witch Project_!"

Harry shared a look with Alouran, but the incubus just shrugged back, a smile of amused confusion on his face. Sighing, Harry raised a brow down at the hunter. "I'm… sure you have? Look, I guess I should explain this fully. I was born with magic, and when I turned eleven, I went to a school created for the purpose of training people like me—people _born_ with magic. I can't tell you much since you're a muggle and a hunter no less, but there are more of us than you imagine. And despite what you apparently believe, we don't go around kidnapping people as ingredients for potions."

Dean was silent for several long beats. "Alright then. I repeat, what the hell do you want from me?"

"Cooperation," Harry smiled, thinking he had won over a fraction of the hunter's trust. "We already know you don't have the Colt."

The hunter's face went perfectly blank, but something in his eyes sparked at the mention of the mystical weapon. It was gone in a flash, but Harry spotted it.

"Do you know where the Colt is?"

"The Colt?" Dean repeated, voice light. "Never heard of it."

"Lying son of a bitch!" Luther snarled suddenly, moving to lunge forward but a look from Harry stilled him. The vampire continued to speak despite the stare Harry sent his way. "Your scent—you were here! You stole the Colt!"

"_Down_, Kujo, down. You need to keep a better leash on your pet; I suggest neutering."

Dean's taunting words once more threw Luther into a rage and the vampire struggled as his coven tried to hold him back from killing the only bargaining chip they had. Once the vampire realized his efforts were futile, he slumped tiredly but shook off the hands supporting him.

"Luther?" Harry called in concern. The vampire stared down at him, the bloodlust slowly fading from his eyes but still simmering close to the surface. "Maybe you should go outside. Get some fresh air."

"Yeah, Luther," Dean said, painfully smug for someone who was essentially a prisoner.

"_Dean_," Harry sighed, resisting the urge to u to pinch the bridge of his nose. He felt like a nursery school teacher trying to separate two little kids—except these two kids could and wouldn't hesitate to kill each other.

Luther flashed Dean another dark look before doing as asked and going to wait outside. He would still be able to hear them, but hopefully being removed from Dean's immediate presence would make him less likely to lash out. Hopefully it would also stop Dean from being so cheeky.

Unfortunately, Harry would soon learn,_ nothing_ could stop Dean from being a smart ass.

Once Luther was outside, Harry ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "Please, Dean. We just want the Colt. Afterwards, you and your hunter friends can go free and we'll never bother you again."

Dean was making a show out of licking his teeth, but he stopped and stared at Harry when he finished speaking. "I told you, I don't know anything about a Colt."

Harry knew he could simply tear Dean's mind apart and find out everything he wanted to know, but something stopped him. Mostly it was bad memories of his own past where his mind was raped by Snape, but there was something else as well, something he couldn't put his finger on…

Deciding to be truthful and straight forward, Harry tried again. "Dean, I don't want to hurt you… So please, tell me. Where is the Colt?"

Thankfully, Harry's earnest approach seemed to do the trick. Dean's face softened and the defiance fled from his gaze. With a sigh, the hunter's head slumped.

"The Colt…" he began lowly, causing Harry to lean forward to hear better, "is up my ass."

"W-What?"

Dean grinned cheekily and Harry could only stare ahead blankly in shock. Disbelief shining in his eyes, Harry turned and stared at his secretary who wore a similar look on his face. Then, Alouran's mask broke and a grin slipped onto his face. That was all it took to send Harry over the edge and the two began laughing, much to the shock of everyone in the barn.

Tears gathered in Harry's eyes as he laughed, a hand on his knee and the other on his stomach. Alouran was actually on the floor, rolling and hooting and that only served to make Harry laugh harder.

Once the two managed to calm down, the force of their laughs disintegrating into chuckles, they stood. Harry wiped a single tear from his eye, ignoring everyone's looks that proclaimed him as insane.

With a grin, Harry resisted the urge to ruffle Dean's hair. "I like you, Dean," Harry admitted. "You're funny."

Getting over his own shock, Dean flashed an easy grin which sent Harry's heart suddenly racing. "Yeah, well, I try."

"Oh well," Harry said, shrugging and turning his back on their prisoner. "It doesn't matter if you tell us anything about the gun or not, I suppose. Your hunter buddies will still come for you, and they will hand over the Colt in exchange for your safety."

"My dad's not that stupid."

Harry flashed a smile at Dean over his shoulder. "Well, we'll just have to wait and see now, won't we?" With a pleasant smile, Harry began walking slow circles around his prisoner, silently pleased as the hunter watched his every move. "Dean, can I ask you a serious question?"

"No, but I get the feeling you're going to ask anyway."

Harry didn't respond but inclined his head in agreement. "Why do you hunt Dark creatures?"

Dean looked taken aback at the question. "Besides the obvious reasons?" He looked down at the ropes binding him pointedly. Harry snorted but didn't comment, and with a sigh the hunter answered the question. "Because somebody has to kill all the evil sons of bitches out there."

"Really?" Harry drawled, finally stopping in front of the hunter and crouching down so they were face to face. "How does that work? Just because they exist and are different than what you're used to, they must be hunted?"

Dean shrugged as best as his bonds allowed, not backing down from the silent clash of wills occurring between them. "When they prey on humans—then, yeah, they deserve to rot in hell."

Harry felt anger lance through him at Dean's harsh words, his magic unfurling itself to cloak the barn. The vampires all stilled at the feel of it, but Alouran seemed perfectly immune. With a light voice, Harry repeated words that he had spoken—or rather, Daekin spoke—many years ago. "It is not the son of man's place to decide what has the right to live and what has the right to perish. _All_ living things deserve life, and to deny them of that is _unjust _in my eyes."

"Yeah?" Dean asked blandly. "Well in _my_ eyes, it's ridding the world of trash."

In a blink, Harry's magic lunged at Dean and wrapped itself around his throat. The hunter gasped and choked, but with his arms bound as they were, he was unable to do anything but struggle futilely. Alouran took a bold step forward, but stopped with a look from Harry.

"I'm not going to kill you," Harry whispered to Dean, assuaging Alouran's fears as well. "But just like the creatures you hunt, _I_ find you to be 'evil' and removing you from the world would definitely make it a better place in _my_ eyes…" Reigning in his magic, Harry watched blankly as Dean began coughing violently, eyes blurry from lack of oxygen. "You say that they deserve to die because they prey on humans, but what would happen if all those who humans preyed upon rose up in rebellion?"

Dean glared up at him in hatred, having no words to refute what he said.

"You think yourself a hero," Harry continued, "maybe even a _god_. But do you want to know what I see when I look at you…? A _murderer_."

With that final comment, Harry turned his back on the stunned man and addressed the vampires. "Watch over him, but _don't_ feed from him or hurt him in any way."

At the coven's nod, Harry checked on Luther before dragging his secretary outside and away from any vampires who might decide to eavesdrop on their conversation. Once they were at an adequate distance, Harry pressed his back against a nearby tree and sagged against it.

The sudden confrontation with Dean left him exhausted and emotionally drained. He always found himself getting worked up whenever anyone criticized his creatures, but with Dean it felt so much more _personal_.

"Harry?" Alouran asked curiously, having let himself be led away quietly. He watched the tired slump of Harry's shoulder and couldn't help but become concerned.

Harry stared at nothing for several long moments before speaking, voice tight, "Alouran, I need to ask you something, and I want you to be perfectly honest with me…"

Alouran, while confused, gave a nod of acceptance. "Of course, Harry. What's wrong?"

Sighing, the young King ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Is it possible for me to, ah… read the souls of humans? And is it possible for them to affect me… as if they were one of my own?"

"What? No—I mean, not usually. Harry, what—" The incubus suddenly paused as he came unto a realization. He narrowed his eyes, growing more and more certain when Harry wouldn't meet his gaze. "You can read that human's soul."

A denial was on Harry's lips, but he let it die. There would be no point in lying. Alouran had already figured it out.

"Yes," Harry admitted reluctantly.

Alouran made a startled sound and clamped a hand over his mouth when Harry's eyes snapped up.

"Alouran?" Harry questioned hesitantly.

Knowing he was caught, Alouran dropped his hands and instead crossed them over his chest. "Harry… What does his soul make you feel?"

"W-What? N-Nothing unusual…"

"Harry!"

Huffing, Harry shrugged and looked up at the slowly setting sun. "I don't know. It's like he's a dark creature, except I feel differently around him than I do any of my own. With him I feel like it's reversed. I feel, uh… protected? Warm? Uhg, it sounded less stupid in my head…"

Alouran snorted but appeared innocent when Harry glared. "Is that all?"

"I also feel… other things." Harry blushed and Alouran's sudden grin showed that he knew exactly what those 'other things' were. "Al, what does this mean?" Harry asked before Alouran could even start. "He's human, right?"

"Yeah, he's human," Alouran said, wincing lightly.

"So…?"

"I don't think you want to know…"

"Alouran, I want to know." Harry's eyes were set in determination and Alouran felt his reluctance crumbling under the strong stare.

Sighing, Alouran unfurled his arms and stared back at his King, eyes serious. "Harry… I think he may be your soul mate."

"That's impossible," Harry denied immediately. "I, Ginny—I've already met my soul mate."

"Most people don't, Harry," Alouran explained gently. "That doesn't mean they can't fall in love and still be happy, but… Ginny most likely wasn't your soul mate, just someone you found you could and _did _love."

"But…I… How can I know for sure? What do I do?"

Alouran coughed and brushed his nose. "Well… you'll have to kiss him."

"_Kiss him_?!"

"Yeah." Alouran tried to hide a grin and failed spectacularly. "If you kiss and there are sparkles and rainbows and all that other rot, there's a pretty good chance he's your soul mate."

"Bugger me," Harry sighed.

"Oh, if he's your soul mate," Alouran teased mercifully, "he will, Harry, he will."

Harry flushed bright red and swatted at his secretary futilely. The incubus ran off, chortling gleefully as he did so. Harry watched Alouran disappear before sliding down the tree slowly, ignoring the slight sting as it rubbed his skin unmercifully.

His soul mate was a hunter? That… that couldn't be possible!

But knowing his luck… it most likely was.

**o0o**

Dean had been kidnapped by the demon! The demon that _wasn't_ a demon had his brother!

That single thought in varying forms circled Sam's mind endlessly as he paced beside the Impala, a feeling of helplessness filling him. His father watched from a distance, his own face tightened in worry. The plan had been to fake car trouble, shoot the vampires up with crossbow bolts soaked in dead man's blood, and then take one of them hostage.

Unfortunately, the plan had backfired and they lost one of their own.

When Sam saw the blonde-haired kid enter the clearing, he and his father had shared confused looks. They had watched the coven closely that very morning and were pretty sure that there hadn't been any blonde vampires in the nest. Not wanting to kill an innocent human, Sam held his crossbow at the ready but didn't fire.

But he should have known, should have doubted. He hadn't seen any black-haired kids at the coven either, but he had still shown up in his vision. There were forces involved they hadn't counted on, but Sam saw blonde instead of black, and blue instead of green, so he had let his guard down.

Dean and the boy began conversing, but Sam couldn't hear them from where he laid in waiting. He _did _see, however, when his brother splashed the kid with holy water but to no effect. The tension he hadn't even known was present slipped completely from his shoulders.

It all came back with a vengeance when he noticed how panicked the boy began acting. When the kid bolted with Dean not far behind, Sam cursed and slogged his way through the dense foliage after them. His father was hot on his tail, but they were too late to stop whatever it was the two were chasing after.

They found Dean's gun in a clearing, but no blood or signs of struggle. Dean would _never_ leave his weapon behind—not on purpose, anyway. The only logical explanation was that both of them had been taken in by the vampires. Or… that the blonde-haired kid wasn't who they thought he was.

A sudden chilling thought had lanced through him.

His visions were connected to the demon that killed his mother, so… that meant the black-haired boy was connected as well. Maybe another psychic child…? One who could change his appearance at will? But that didn't explain the black eyes and explosive power…

With no clue as to what happened, they had gone back to their respective vehicles to gear up. His father was currently gathering every weapon he could to use against the vampires, but Sam was reluctant to follow his example. If things continued in the way they currently were, they would _all_ die. He had to talk to his father now, to make sure he didn't do anything to get them all killed.

"Dad, once we find Dean, _promise_ me you won't attack them, no matter what."

The man paused in sharpening his machete and gave Sam an exasperated look. "Why should I? If it turns out those leeches harmed one hair on my son I swear I'll—"

"Dad! Please, _trust me_. No matter what we see in there, no matter what they say… don't do anything recklessly."

"…Alright, Sammy." He went back to sharpening his weapon, eyes hard and back tense. Sam watched over him warily, sure that his words had gone in one ear and out the other.

If worse came to worse, Sam promised right then and there, he would stop his father himself.

**o0o**

Harry was conflicted. Alouran seemed to think that Dean was his soul mate, but that was impossible! In his old life, when he had been just a normal wizard, the love of his life had been Ginny Weasley. When he looked at her, his heart sped up, and the feel of her lips against his had felt so _right_.

But now Alouran was telling him that was just a lie? That the man tied up in the corner was the one he should have _truly_ been with? The thought was ludicrous! Harry wouldn't let something as misguided as 'soul mates' tell him who to love—no matter _how_ right it was. Even if Dean _could_ inspire the feelings in him when he read the man's soul… he just… he just…

Harry felt his heart freeze as he recalled a thought he had earlier when talking to Dean.

_Even if something were to appear right in front of them, they wouldn't believe it because it was thought to be 'impossible' or some other rubbish. The only way to convince them was to clear their doubts, one by one until they had nothing left to hide behind and force them to accept the truth._

He wanted to laugh as his own thoughts came back to bite him in the ass. There he was, trying to appear holier than thou, when he now found himself unwilling to take his own advice. So, if he was to follow his own words, he would have to clear away all doubts until there remained naught but a single truth…

It was a simple matter, really. If he kissed Dean and felt nothing, he could continue his lonely existence as the King of Dae. But if he _did_ feel something… then what? Would he have to accept that Dean was his soul mate?

Harry's pained thoughts were ground to a sudden halt when he felt two beings wander into the wards he placed around the barn. His eyes flashed over to their restrained prisoner before he rose off the couch he sat on and trekked over to a window to stare outside.

He couldn't see them, but the two hunters were no doubt scratching their heads in confusion as they tried to figure out where the coven was hiding. They knew logically that it should be right in front of their eyes, but the anti-muggle ward was forcing them to simply look pass it.

For the first time since Harry called Dean a murderer and then found out he was possibly his soul mate, he turned to the hunter. Dean was scrunching up his nose and Harry chuckled quietly at the sight of it. Hearing him, Dean turned to him with a glare, but his face blanked when their eyes locked.

His own amusement fading, Harry turned back toward the window. "Your hunter friends are out there, you know? Most likely trying to find out why they can't locate the barn."

Dean' eyes narrowed as he picked up on what Harry was saying faster than the wizard thought he would. "You warded the nest."

Harry inclined his head in acknowledgement, a slight grin on his face. "I didn't want you guys catching me unawares like last time. Let's close the windows and invite them in, shall we?"

The vampires all moved around, closing and barring the windows until there was only one way to enter and one way to exit: the barn door. Then with a single thought, the ward was lowered and Harry waited, wondering how the hunter's would react to this new situation.

Patiently, Harry waited in the center of the barn for them to make a move, magic ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of a threat. The vampires all stood behind, watching over the prisoner while still being able to guard the rear while he protected the front.

Suddenly, the barn doors were kicked open forcibly, Sam and Daddy Hunter standing in the doorway, armed to the teeth. Harry's eyes narrowed when he saw the machetes the hunters were toting, but something else immediately caught his attention. The same thing that had happened with Dean happened with Sam, and _somehow_, Harry was able to clearly read Sam's soul. Also like Dean's, Harry found it to be _very_ appealing.

Sam's soul was pure and just, and he also seemed to hold loyalty in high regard, but unlike Dean, his soul was tainted by something Dark—not _Harry's_ kind of Dark, but startlingly similar. It was an interesting soul to say the least, and the person the soul resided in wasn't half-bad looking either.

Sam was tall, ridiculously so. If they weren't standing on opposite ends of the room, Harry was sure he would have to crane his neck to see him. The tall hunter had a more rounded face than Dean's, and his brown hair was messy over his head.

Harry forced his eyes away from Sam's forest green ones painfully, wondering what the hell was going on. Were his powers just going crazy, or was Sam also his… He shook his head, denying the thought before it could even began.

Mercifully, Harry was unable to read Daddy Hunter's soul, but you didn't exactly need that ability to see what type of man he was. His face was hard and rugged, and Harry could see a clear family resemblance between Dean and the man. In fact… Sam looked like the man de-aged twenty years and with shaggy brown hair.

Were they a _family_ of hunters…? How… quaint.

"Dad, Sammy!" Dean shouted when he spotted his family. Daddy Hunter's face instantly softened upon seeing his son, and Sam seemed to shudder in relief. The only thing keeping the hunters from running over to the shorter man was the vampires that stood guard around him.

"Dean," Sam breathed, eyes darting around the vampires before he locked eyes with Harry. The young King felt a sudden jolt, but ignored the emotions he felt filling him pointedly. "You…"

Harry gave a light grin, thinking Sam recognized him from when he tricked Dean in the forest clearing.

"Let go of Dean," the father said immediately, getting straight to the point.

"We will," Harry agreed, stepping forward and showing himself to be the one in charge. Daddy Hunter reached into his coat pocket and removed a silver gun with a long nozzle. With a click, the weapon was cocked and pointed straight at his head.

Behind him, Luther hissed. "The Colt."

Sam darted nervous looks at his father, but remained silent.

Harry tilted his head, taking in the Colt and wondering what made it so special. To him, it appeared to be just an ordinary gun… but it had the power to kill anything. It would be best if he didn't underestimate them—not like he had last time.

"Good, you brought the gun." Harry smiled as pleasantly as he could—his heart hammering with nerves as he eyed the man critically. Daddy Hunter seemed like the fight now, ask questions later type of guy, and if things got out of hand, Harry was prepared to handle him… using any means necessary. "How about we trade? Your son for the gun. It's a win-win for everyone."

"Dad, don't do it!" Dean shouted.

Both Harry and Daddy Hunter ignored him, their gazes never wavering. From beside him, Sam looked on the verge of hyperventilating and was whispering to his father desperately.

"Not _now_, Sammy," his father snapped, not lowering the gun even an inch.

"So what do you say?" Harry asked.

There was a long tense moment before the man nodded, causing a pleased smile to bloom on Harry's face.

"But first, untie Dean."

Harry didn't want to take his eyes off the severe-looking hunter for even a moment. So, without looking away, he called to his secretary. "Alouran, undo the bindings from Dean."

The incubus untied the ropes keeping the hunter restrained to the chair and placed a deceptively strong hand on his shoulder. Dean's knees buckled at the force of it, and he knew he wouldn't be able to beat the man in a fist fight.

Alouran brought Dean to stand beside Harry. He broke the staring contest long enough to look up. Dean was a good five inches taller than Harry, and he was much broader and muscled as well. Still, Harry threatened lowly, "If you move even a muscle I swear I won't hesitate to strike you down."

Dean stiffened noticeably at the threat, but wisely chose to refrain from making a biting remark.

"Now slide the gun over," Harry requested, turning back to Daddy Hunter, "and then Dean will walk over to you."

The oldest hunter shook his head, eyes set. "No. Dean walks over, and then I slide the gun over to you."

"How about, Dean walks over and then once he gets half way, you slide the gun over."

That seemed good enough for Daddy Hunter as he gave a satisfied nod and looked at Dean. Harry gave Dean a light push forward, once again choosing to ignore the briefest hint of muscle he felt and the heat from his body which almost scorched him. Daddy Hunter crouched down, placing the gun on the floor. Once Dean was halfway to his family, Daddy Hunter slid the gun across the floor.

After that, things only went downhill for Harry's side of things. Dean suddenly lunged forward, reaching down and picking the gun off the floor before it could slide past him. He managed to get to his feet quickly and threw the gun into his father's waiting hand. Sam rushed to his brother's side, the only thing stopping the vampires from ripping them both to shreds being the Colt pointed in their general direction.

Dean joined his family at their sides, machete in hand and cocky grin in place. "I told you," Dean taunted. "My dad ain't stupid."

Harry felt anger slowly boiling to the surface as he watched the scene play out, his magic itching just under his skin to _finish_ things… once and for all.

"We had a deal," Harry bit out, fingers twitching by his sides. "The gun for Dean."

"Sorry," the man said, clearly unapologetic. "But I'm afraid we need this gun far more than you do." He turned to look at Sam and something in his eyes fled. "Come on boys, let's go. We'll be back to deal with _you_ later."

It was those final words which caused Harry to act.

They began slowly backing their way toward the open farm door, but with a single glare from Harry, it closed and was locked by a mystical force. The hunters spun to look at it in shock before turning back to Harry.

Above them, the fluorescent lights flickered dangerously, but they paid that no mind, eyes firmly on the sudden threat before them.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," Harry growled. With a simple wave of his hand, the Colt was ripped from the stunned hunter's hand and sailed easily into Harry's. Harry looked at the gun only momentarily before turning back to the hunters, eyes solemn.

"Let us go," Sam pleaded weakly, throat convulsing as he tried to master his sudden dread.

"Why should I do that?" Harry asked seriously, brow rising. "I gave you a chance to settling things like normal muggles—but it looks like that won't work with hunters. Your lot cannot be trusted."

"Let us go, _now_," Daddy Hunter snarled, taking out another gun and leveling it with Harry's head.

Harry looked at the gun and snorted. "Go ahead, shoot. If you attack me, I'll kill you without hesitation."

Sam reached out a shaking hand and lowered his father's arm, eyes pleading with him to comply. With a sneer, Daddy Hunter allowed his gun to be taken away by Sam. Dean glared ahead with narrowed eyes, the grip of his machete loosening till it dropped to the floor.

"What's this?" Harry couldn't help but question.

"We won't fight," Daddy Hunter declared, earning shocked looks from both his sons. "If you let us leave, I _swear_ we won't come back. We'll leave this nest alone, and if we run across them again, we'll look away."

Harry laughed humorlessly. "Ah, so _now_ you want to bargain. You've already shown yourself to be untrustworthy, why the hell should I believe you now? Besides, what about any other Dark creatures, hmm? Will you try end their lives, or will you simply 'look away'?"

The muscles in Daddy Hunter's jaw shifted and Harry predicted the lie before it even left the man's lips. "I'll look away."

"Liar," Harry chastised quietly.

"…Dad," Dean said hesitantly, looking at a loss.

Harry was honestly expecting more resistance from them, but they looked almost reconciled to a fate Harry hadn't even decided yet.

"We'll do anything," the man said in resignation, and Harry wasn't sure if this was a hoax or not. They had already lied to him twice; a third time would be it. They would have struck out.

"Anything?" Harry mused, wondering how he could work this sudden opportunity to his advantage. Daddy Hunter nodded in confirmation and Harry came to a decision. "Alright then, swear it. Swear it on your very life that you will accept my terms, and should you not comply, you accept your death."

"Dad, don't do it," Dean snarled. "I'd rather die than have you make a deal with some devil!"

"I… I agree, dad," Sam sighed. "It's not worth it…"

Harry looked a little offended at being called a devil, but he made no move to correct them.

Daddy Hunter smiled the smile of a man who was literally selling his soul and Harry wondered just _what_ they thought he would ask of them. "It's alright boys," Daddy hunter said to them. He turned to Harry and the soft smile fell away, his eyes set in determination. "Alright, I swear it."

Magic swirled around the room instantly, a mini-maelstrom that bound the hunter to his promise to accept Harry's terms—no matter what. Should he refuse, the very magic he used to make the promise would kill him.

A slow smile bloomed onto Harry's face as the magic settled. This was good… he could make serious work of this. As it was now, Daddy Hunter had basically agreed to a life debt. In exchange for all of their lives, he would have to do something beneficial to Harry.

It was best not to be wasted.

"Leave," Harry ordered, once more shocking the hunters. "I'll need to discuss this with my secretary, but once I've thought up a suitable payment for your debt, I'll contact you."

Harry once more used his magic to unblock the barn entrance, and the door opened with a low groan. The hunter's all stared at it, wondering if Harry was playing some sort of trick on them.

Rolling his eyes, Harry repeated, "_Leave_."

"Come on boys," John said gruffly, picking up Dean's dropped machete and walking toward the door. Dean's face was completely blank as he followed his father, but he threw a small glance over his shoulder before leaving. Sam bit his lip before giving Harry a small nod of gratitude. Harry returned the nod and waited till they had all left before sealing the door and once more restoring the wards.

Sure that it was over, Harry sagged tiredly. It had been a tense showdown, and had Daddy Hunter fired… Harry would have killed him immediately. But Dean, and even Sam… he wasn't so sure.

Daddy Hunter now owed him a life debt, and Harry intended to milk it for all it was worth.


	7. Wants and Needs

_A/N: _Okay, this is the part where I say something like "Don't except another update so soon!", but honestly... I won't even bother. This story is just flowing out of my mind so easily and I'm having so much fun writing it. The next update will come when it comes, I'm just going to stop trying to predict it.

Now then: about the life-debt. Some people appeared to have gotten the wrong idea. John hasn't agreed to do _anything_ yet. He made the debt _after_ making promises, so they don't apply. I hope that clears up any confusion.

Ahh... I don't have much to say about this chapter. It was a blast to write and I hope you have a blast reading it. Don't forget to leave a review telling me what you think afterward! I read every one and respond whenever I can.

**o0o**

Dean and Sam were once more on the road, the sound of the car speakers blaring as they trailed behind their father's truck. After escaping from the barn with their lives intact, they each silently got into their respective vehicles and began driving back toward the motel where they were staying.

With a click, Dean cut off the radio and Sam turned to him curiously. Dean's eyes were on the road, but his face was resigned.

"Dean?" Sam frowned uncertainty.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean sighed. "You were right, so let me have it."

Sam knew exactly what Dean was talking about. He had tried to talk them out of going through with the hunt, but Dean had been surprisingly stubborn and convinced him to go along with it. Thankfully, they all managed to get out alive, but they lost the Colt and their father had nearly sold his soul for their freedom. Instead of flinging around useless "I told you so"s that would only serve to make Dean feel worse about himself, Sam sighed and shook his head.

"I wasn't _all_ right—that blonde-haired kid in the forest? That was him, wasn't it?"

Dean winced and rubbed his eyes tiredly with one hand. "You saw that, huh? Yeah, that was him."

Sam grinned and couldn't help but tease, "I can't believe you fell for that innocent victim crap, I thought you were better than that."

"Ha-ha, very funny, might as well get it out of your system now."

Sam smiled and simply turned to look back out the window. "Dad'll give you enough chewing out for the both of us." Dean groaned, having forgotten momentarily about the verbal lashing awaiting him from their father. "So, what was he?" Sam asked, continuing the conversation. "He wasn't a demon, so… shape shifter?"

"No, he used my knife to cut himself—that son of a bitch!" Dean snarled suddenly and pounded the steering wheel in anger.

Sam jerked and looked at him in panic, thinking something happened. "What? What is it?"

"That little bastard still has my knife!" Dean growled, causing Sam to relax and breathe a sigh of relief.

"Is that all? Geez, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"That was my favorite knife," Dean muttered petulantly.

Sam rolled his eyes and ignored him pointedly. "So if he's not a demon or a shape shifter, I came up with a theory. I had a vision about him, right?" Dean frowned in displeasure at the mention of Sam's visions but nodded to show that he was listening. "And my visions are always connected to the demon, so…"

"You think he's like you? One of those psychic fre—kids."

"Yes, Dean," Sam bit out angrily. "I think he's a psychic _freak_ like me."

"Sammy, that's not what I meant," Dean sighed tiredly, simply not having the _energy_ to argue.

"…I know," Sam breathed, deflating. "But it would explain why I had a vision about him and his powers."

"I don't think so," Dean denied with a shake of his head.

"Why not?"

"Because he's a witch—or wizard. Whatever."

"What?" Sam gaped. Then, his eyes began to widen in understanding. "That would explain his eyes in my vision! If he borrowed power from the demon he made a deal with—"

"He said he was _born_ with magic," Dean interrupted, ruining yet another of Sam's theories. "Something about there even being a freaky occult school for people born with magic."

"Born with magic?" Sam repeated in disbelief. "No one is _born_ with magic."

"Yeah, well, stranger things have happened." Dean gave Sam a look out of the corner of his eye, and Sam realized that Dean meant his own psychic abilities. He grimaced, but conceded that Dean had a point.

Deciding to change the subject, Sam asked, "He say anything else?"

"Yeah," Dean frowned. "Something about being the King of Die…? King of Day? King of _something_. Basically said he's God's evil brother." Dean snorted and shook his head, clearly unbelieving.

"W-What?" Sam sputtered, unable to believe it as well. "God's evil brother? What's that even supposed to mean?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know... don't think he said. Kid's got serious delusions of grandeur."

Sam nodded, but internally his mind was racing. Was what the boy spoke of possible? Could he really be a so called 'King'? He would have to research it later.

**o0o**

After making sure the hunters wouldn't be coming back, Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had dodged a bullet there, and he knew it. Had Daddy Hunter decided he would try to take his son back by force or if it turned out he had a horde of hunter reinforcements, Harry would have been forced to use extreme measures.

Thankfully, he hadn't needed to do more than threaten them. He hadn't wanted to brandish his power so openly, but they left him no choice.

Now there was the issue of his potential soul mate… or rather, soul _mates_. He had been able to read Sam's soul just as clearly as he had been able to read Dean's, and the emotions it inspired in him were similar to those he felt from Dean.

When he came to America, he certainly hadn't expected for any of _this_.

As it stood now, there was still a chance for Harry to finally settle things peacefully and maybe further his own agenda along the way. He made Daddy Hunter agree to accept a dept, but he still had no idea what to ask for.

That was why after he made sure the vampires would be safe and protected, he grabbed his secretary and once more led him to the same secluded spot that was quickly becoming their meeting place.

"You did well back there," Alouran complimented, smiling.

Harry nodded distractedly, his thoughts racing at one-thousand miles a minute. He looked up at his secretary seriously and whispered quietly, "I think I have two soul mates."

Alouran jerked as if struck and simply stared. "T-Two? Harry, please, that's… that's unheard of…"

"Just unheard of? Or _impossible_?"

"W-well," Alouran began hesitantly. "Theoretically, it's possible… but the odds are like, a trillion to one. And for you to meet _both_ of them…? Yeah... It's like winning the lottery every day for the rest of your life—it requires _insane_ odds."

Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. "That sounds like my luck alright, only instead of winning the lottery it would be getting struck by lightning."

Alouran tried to laugh, but he broke off into quiet coughs when Harry didn't join him. "Harry, if you want, you can just ignore them. You don't have to do anything about them—you _can_ live your life without them."

"I know," Harry whispered. "But a little part of me… now that it's found them, it doesn't want to let them go."

His best friend and secretary placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and Harry relaxed into it gratefully. Usually he was the one always doing the comforting—he was the King of Dae, after all. It wouldn't do to show weakness in front of _anyone,_ less they decide to question him. But with Alouran, he felt he didn't have to always wear the mask of the King. It felt nice to have someone he could trust, who he could let down his guard around and be completely himself.

Changing the subject, Alouran asked, "So, what are you going to ask that hunter to do to repay his debt?"

Harry allowed the change with a small smile. "I don't know… Al, honestly, I still have no idea how I can make the situation in America better. Until I find out what's blocking my powers—hell, even _then_… without something in place to protect the Dark creatures, things will just deteriorate after I leave."

"It's the hunters," Alouran nodded, a speculative hand on his chin. "A step in the right direction would be a Dark creature protection act, or anything to stop the hunters from hunting."

"How?" Harry growled in frustration. "There's no magical community here, which means there's no safe place for the creatures of Dark to live. The hunters have effectively turned America into a muggle-only country. If we're going to make things right, we'll have to instill some type of order."

"Order?" Alouran questioned curiously.

"Yes… like, create a government of our own in America…"

Alouran's skepticism was easily spotted on his face. "But, Harry, how would that work? Normal humans can't know about the wizarding world or Dark creatures, and hunters aren't likely to follow the laws of a government they hate."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You're right… It all seems to come back to the hunters. Until we can find a solution for them, we can't even take a single step forward."

"Most of them are fueled by revenge or just blind hate," Alouran explained, shaking his head. "It won't be easy to get them to stop. In fact, it'll be pretty much impossible!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Al," Harry remarked dryly. "Maybe I can just relocate all of the dark creatures to somewhere new? An uninhabited island, perhaps?"

"That _could_ work, "Alouran allowed hesitantly, "but that's too big of a job for _anyone_ to do. Besides, most of them would be unable to find food… say for instance, a vampire?"

Harry once more heaved a giant breath of frustration. "Being a god is hard work."

Alouran chuckled. "Of course it is! But, you know… if all else fails… we could—"

"No," Harry denied fiercely. "I considered it once, but that would make me no different than the hunters—killing to simple rid the world of what we think of as evil. It also reminds me of dear old Tom, may he burn in hell, and how he saw muggles and muggle-born. No, we'll try to settle this with as little bloodshed as possible."

"Okay, okay," Alouran said, backing down immediately. There was several beats of silence before a wicked smile on Al's face. "Hey, I know what you can ask that old hunter for…"

Harry leaned forward, curious. "What?"

**o0o**

Just as Sam predicted, as soon as they returned their hotel room, their father instantly went on a tirade, chewing Dean out thoroughly and leaving nothing behind but bones. Dean bore the verbal lashing stoically, face blank and eyes staring straight ahead.

As soon as he was finished screaming, the man surprised them both by suddenly leaning forward and embracing his eldest son in a hug.

"D-Dad?" Dean called hesitantly, not sure if he should return the hug and flashing a Sam a confused look over the man' shoulder. Sam just shrugged back and stilled as their father turned to him.

"Sammy," their father whispered, moving as if to embrace him as well but changing his mind at the last second. "I'm sorry."

Sam knew exactly what he was apologizing for: for not truly believing him when he repeatedly tried to warn him and for striking him across the cheek in a moment of anger. Sam merely nodded, accepting the apology but not quite ready to mend the numerous fences between them.

The man smiled weakly before sitting heavily on the bed and burying his face in his hands. Once more, Dean and Sam exchanged glances, unsure of what they should say or do.

"Dad?" Dean sat on the bed next to their father and clapped him weakly on the back. "I-I'm sorry as well. Sammy tried to warn me, but I—"

"Dean," Sam interrupted, shaking his head. "It's okay. Really."

Dean sighed. "Dad, about the… the deal you made. What are you… what are you going to do?"

If possible, their father seemed to sag even more wearily, the sight of it simply not computing in Sam's brain. Their father was strong and fearless; the man who appeared too old and tired in front of them… it was like a different person entirely.

"I have to leave you boys."

Sam felt a jolt race through him and took a step nearer. "But we just found you! You can't leave yet!"

"I have to," the man sighed, finally looking up. Sam saw the regret and sadness in his father's eyes and felt all of his indignation fleeing him. "I accepted his deal for you boy's safety, and if I don't do it… I die. What if…" He paused and drew in a deep breath, eyes closed. "What if he asked me to kill you?"

Sam's eyes widened in horror, the look mirrored on his brother's face as well. "He-He wouldn't do that," Dean denied weakly, although he was noticeably unsure. Sam swallowed thickly, realizing for the first time just how much control the black-haired boy had over their family.

"We'll kill him," Dean suddenly snarled, jaw quivering in anger. "If he's dead, his little deal—"

"Dean!" their father snapped, turning to him with a glare. "Don't you dare! If you go after that boy and he kills you…" He sighed and shook his head, unable to even bear the thought. "No… I'll go into hiding. If he can't find me, he can't order me to do anything."

"Then we'll go with you," Sam offered.

"No," he denied firmly. "I listened to you boys at first, and now look at us. The vampires are still alive, we lost the colt, and I've sold my freedom to a monster! No, Sam… you boys just… just protect yourselves, okay?"

"Dad," Sam whispered, a sudden guilt creeping into his heart. If he hadn't pushed so strongly for his dad to finally _see_ them—to accept them as his fellow hunters… then maybe none of this would had happened.

Dean once more lowered his head. "This is all my fault…"

"It's not anyone's fault," their father sighed. He stood tiredly and gave them both small smiles. "Now go to bed."

"You're leaving?" Sam questioned weakly. "_Now_?"

Their father didn't reply, but that was answer enough. Sam opened his mouth to try to convince his father to once more let them come with him when there was a knock at the door. The words died in his throat and all three Winchesters turned toward the sound.

It was after ten o'clock PM, so no one should be visiting their room at that late an hour. Dean and their father both grabbed rifles loaded with rock salt and Sam walked cautiously toward the door. At their slow nods of confirmation, he opened the door a peak, his eyes widening at who he saw on the other side.

"Hello," the green-eyed boy smiled, waving lightly.

Sam opened the door all the way, letting the rest of his family see their new visitor.

"You," their father whispered in resignation while Dean snarled, rifle raised and pointed at Harry despite the fact that it couldn't kill—only hurt like a bitch.

The boy raised a brow at the sight of Dean aiming a loaded rifle at him, but seemed mostly unperturbed.

"Hello, Sam," the boy whispered quietly, staring up at him through his lashes before stepping into the room. Sam moved out of the way silently and watched as the boy stopped in the middle of the room. He inclined his head at Dean who only sneered back and then his gaze landed on their father.

"I've come to collect your debt—before you decide to skip town or some such."

Sam barely held in a snort and Dean grimaced in displeasure. Their father nodded once and sat down once again on the bed opposite Dean.

"Alright," he said in acceptance, voice tight and head bowed. "What do you want from me?"

The boy gave a sudden grin.

**o0o**

After hearing Alouran's plan, Harry had to admit… it was good. It was Slytherin and very perverse in its final goals, but despite that, Harry liked it. It appealed to both his sense of diplomacy and the dark humor he found himself developing courtesy of Alouran.

It was dependant on certain variables coming into play, but they had thought it through and decided that there was a good chance of it succeeding.

That was how Harry found himself outside the hotel room of the man who owed him a life debt. Before they left, he placed tracking charms on all of them. It wouldn't do if they suddenly decided to skip town, so he wanted to get to them before they had such a chance.

When Sam opened the door, Harry greeted him pleasantly and stepped inside the room. Up close, Sam was a freaking _giant_, but a cute giant. Dean was aiming a rifle at him, but still he gave the hunter an acknowledging nod, only to get a sneer back in return. Ignoring Dean's hostility, Harry turned to the father and told him he came to collect his debt.

When the man asked what he wanted, Harry couldn't help but grin devilishly. "Nothing extreme, I think," Harry admitted, admiring their room curiously.

Dean snarled and rattled his rifle pointedly. "Well? Spit it out!"

Harry rolled his eyes but refrained from commenting on Dean's rudeness. "What's the hurry? Can't we simply chat and get to know one another, first?"

He received three blank stares for his suggestion.

"Here, Dean," Harry said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a familiar silver knife. "You left without asking for it back."

Dean stared at the offered knife as if it were a trick before standing slowly and taking it. His eyes softened a little in thanks, but the hostility and distrust were still evident.

"You're welcome," Harry huffed, causing Sam to crack a small smile. "Since it seems like I'm the only one who'll be doing any talking, I'll get right to the point." Harry turned to Daddy Hunter and stared him in the eye. "What I want is simple. For the next two hours, I want you to tell me only the truth."

All three of the hunters stared at him in shock, unwilling to believe that was all he wanted.

"Are you serious?" Sam asked finally, still gaping a little dumbly. Dean had forgotten all about his knife and was merely giving Harry a considering look. Daddy Hunter's eyes were narrowed, wondering what angle Harry was trying to work by asking him to tell the truth.

"Yes," Harry said, smiling when they all seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Harry turned back to their father. "So, what do you say?"

"Alright," the man sighed, swallowing lightly.

"Don't forget," Harry reminded gravely, "if you try to lie to me, the magic of the promise you made will turn against you."

The man nodded his acceptance and Harry smiled, coming to sit beside Dean who scowled and stood from the bed. Harry rolled his eyes but refrained from commenting. Turning back to Daddy Hunter, Harry asked his first question. "So, what is your name?"

"John Winchester," the man answered easily.

Harry "ahh'd" and nodded, finally having a name for the man. Thinking of him as Daddy Hunter was growing tiresome. "Alright then, John. Are Dean and Sam your sons?"

"Yes."

Harry again nodded, looking at both Sam and Dean who were watching him closely. He smiled at them, but Sam was the only one who even tried to return it.

"What about other family? A wife?" Harry asked curiously.

"I have other family," John hedged evasively, "and my wife is dead."

Harry knew there was something left unsaid, but decided not to question it. He had found what he was looking for—possible motivation. "Was your wife murdered?"

Dean and Sam stiffened immediately, Dean growling in anger while Sam frowned in sadness. Their reactions were answer enough, but he still needed to have it confirmed by John.

"…Yes," the old hunter said finally, eyes closed in pain.

"My condolences," Harry offered sincerely, ignoring when three pair of shocked eyes zeroed in on him. "Is that why you became a hunter?" Harry continued quietly. "In revenge for your wife?"

Once more John answered affirmative.

So far, it was exactly as Alouran had predicted. Now was the moment of truth… the deciding factor that determined if he would wash his hands of the Winchester family or allow himself to be swept up into their lives.

"What was it that killed your wife, John?"

"…A demon."

When Harry broke out into a smile, Dean's rifle was once more pointed directly at his head. "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. "Really, Dean, you need to work on your trust issues… but, then again, I'm sure you learned that from your father. Am I right, John?"

The man sighed and closed his eyes, clearly reluctant. "…Yes."

Harry resisted the urge to giggle, if only so Dean wouldn't do something he would regret—like firing the rifle at his face. Schooling his expression so that didn't show any of the amusement he felt, he once more turned to John.

"So you want revenge on this demon, correct? If it's why you started hunting, surely you want to kill it?"

John eyed him shrewdly, losing patience in the questioning but having no choice but to answer. "Yes. I still want to kill it."

Harry nodded, having already pieced the story together. "And that's why you wanted the Colt. So you could kill this demon. Am I right, John?"

"…Yes."

Harry hummed, eyes closed in thought. John's quest was noble, but he should have become a _demon_ hunter instead of an all around hunter. Then Harry would have no reservations in giving him a hand, no strings attached. As it was now, he would first have to lay some groundwork…

"What would you say if I were to give you the gun?" There were several silent intakes of breaths and Harry grinned, relieved when this time Dean didn't immediately point a rifle at his face.

"Thank you?" John offered weakly and Harry finally gave in to his urge to chuckle.

"I'll give you guys the gun," Harry confirmed, nodding when they all continued to stare at him in shock. "But there will be conditions. We trade; the gun for something I want. But I have to know I can trust you. Will you try to double cross me again, John?"

John took in a shaky breath. "N-No… I won't."

Harry smiled thinly. "Will you obey my demands should you agree to them, and accept the consequences should you not?"

The old hunter grimaced, but if he wanted the Colt, they would have to play by Harry's rules. "I will…"

"Good," Harry said, allowing himself to sit more comfortably on the bed. "Now, if you want the gun, you'll have to accept these conditions. First, you can only use the gun on demons." Harry eyed them all seriously, but they seemed to agree—so far. "My next condition is that you _all_ have to stop hunting my children for an entire year, which means no killing vampires, werewolves, or anything of that nature."

The brothers looked ready to protest, but a single nod from their father stopped them in their tracks. "Alright. I accept."

"Don't be so hasty," Harry rebuked gently. "There's still one condition left: if you ever run across any of what I just described, you'll contact me immediately. You are to do _nothing_ else."

"No!" Dean snarled angrily, and even Sam appeared reluctant. But John was the one who ultimately decided if it happened or not.

"Okay," the man sighed, causing Dean to immediately begin listing the reasons why it was a bad idea. "Enough!" John snarled and Dean's mouth closed with a snap. "We _need_ that gun to kill the demon! It's the only way we'll ever be able to get our revenge. And if that means… accepting these conditions then… I'm gonna take it."

"Dad," Sam whispered weakly.

Harry was nodding, satisfied with how things were proceeding. "You've given your word, John." Harry didn't need to add more, because it was understood silently. If John went back on his word, he would be killed.

Taking the Colt from a pocket of his blazer, Harry held it in his hand for them all to see. "It's the real deal," he said, handing it to the man who took it and cradled lightly. "It's real, isn't it John?"

The man paused, as if considering, before he nodded his head. "Yes… this is the real Colt." Dean still looked unconvinced, but there was not much they could do until they ran across a demon. John checked the barrels and froze.

"There aren't any bullets…"

Harry grinned cheekily, and slowly, the Winchesters realized they'd been bamboozled.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean snarled, and Harry once more found himself with a rifle aimed at his head. Sam was quiet but appeared to condone Dean's actions, while John was merely starring at Harry through narrowed eyes.

"You want something else for the bullets," the man ventured.

"Correct," Harry said, tilting his head. Dean swore violently but Harry once more chose to tune him out—something he found himself growing rather adept at. He pulled a blue felt pouch from his pocket and jingled it, the sound of metal striking metal hitting all their ears.

"What do you want for them," John asked, eyes blazing in fury but his voice admirably calm.

For once, Harry appeared uncertain and mumbled lowly into his hand.

"What?" John frowned.

Blushing, Harry ducked his head and looked at them through his fringe. "I _said_, I want a kiss."

John's blank mask finally cracked. His eyes widened in horror and his lower lip trembled. Sam and Dean reacted no better, looks of shock and disgust on their faces. "I'm sorry," John began, holding up his hands, "but I don't swing that way."

Harry realized what they thought and his face quickly turned sour. He shook his head vehemently, equally as disturbed as everyone else. "Uhg, sick! No, not from you!"

Sam sighed in relief but immediately frowned in confusion. "Wait… then from who?"

Coughing, Harry once more flushed and simply stared at Sam pointedly. Slowly, John and Dean turned their gazes toward the youngest hunter, their eyes growing wide in realization. Sam pointed a finger at himself and questioned meekly, "Me?"

Harry merely nodded, unable to trust his voice.

"Sammy…" John frowned, clearly not wishing to involve his sons in his deal making more than he already had. Besides, the thought of his son being _anywhere_ near this bright-eyed boy… it made his stomach roll uncomfortably.

"It's okay, dad," Sam sighed, not meeting anyone's gaze. His arms were folded across his chest and his lower jaw quivered. "Like you said… it's for the bullets…"

"Way to take one for the team," Dean muttered encouragingly. Sam glared at him.

While clearly unconvinced, John had no choice. He had come this far and gotten the Colt, to leave without the bullets would have made it all for naught. Sighing, he nodded. "Alright."

Harry silently handed over the pouch, purposefully not looking at Sam. John emptied the contents of the bag into his hands and his face fell. There were only three bullets.

"What else do you want?" John growled, frustration and anger easily evident in his voice.

"This is the last thing, I swear," Harry promised, an uneasy grin on his face. He was reaching the limit of how far he was able to push the Winchesters, and it wouldn't be long before they took the bullets they had and tried to kill him with the Colt anyway. Coughing, Harry ducked his head and told his final request. "For the final three bullets, I want, ah - another kiss..." Dean and John once more turned to Sam and the tall hunter looked pained. "…from Dean."

"Sorry, Sa—wait, _what_?" Dean had been about to offer fake words of comfort to his brother, but the last of Harry's request struck like a bullet between the eyes. "Woh, hold on a second here…"

"What's wrong, Dean?" Sam asked, grinning spitefully. "You just gotta take one for the team, right?"

That stopped the denial that was no doubt on Dean's lips and he slumped, accepting of his fate but clearly resenting every minute of it. "…Fine."

John was glaring at Harry spitefully, but if his son agreed to do it, then he couldn't refuse. "Alright, I accept."

Harry grinned lightly and handed over the second felt bag which contained the final three bullets. John inspected the bullets critically before appearing satisfied. The man loaded the Colt swiftly and stored it away with deliberate fondness.

Coughing, Harry gained all of their attention. "I'd like to - uh, collect my payment… for the bullets?"

Dean was looking at the door desperately, wanting nothing more than to run out of it and escape in his Impala. Sam appeared to agree, and he would no doubt be right on Dean's tail should his brother bolt. Their hesitation was understandable, Harry supposed, but he still couldn't help but be a little downtrodden by their reactions.

Although he didn't like admitting it, Harry _wanted_ to kiss them—hell, he wanted to do _more_. But, from Sam and Dean's reaction, they obviously didn't feel the same. Maybe they _weren't_ his soul mates…

Either way, Harry was about to find out.


	8. Connections

_A/N: _Hello again! The response for the last chapter was simply mind blowing, and I'm afraid I won't be able to live up to the hype this chapter seems to have gotten!

This chapter underwent several revisions with me trying to get it just "perfect", but... I don't know. I'm not sure I was able to do it justice. I tried my best, but I won't know how I've done until you guys have read it so... Review telling me what you thought of it, please.

::runs away::

**o0o**

Harry was nervous about finding out if the Winchester brothers were his soul mates or not, but more than that, he was anxious about the actual _kissing_ portion. Throughout his entire life, he could count the number of times he'd been kissed on his hands alone, and even adding two more wouldn't change that.

To be perfectly honest, he was inexperienced to all things sexual. He wanted to remain aloof and in control, but his mask was slipping. His palms were already beginning to sweat and his stomach was flipping with nervous excitement.

If they were _both_ his soul mates… what would he do? He had convinced himself that he was only doing this to find out if he had a soul mate or not—but afterwards? What then? If it came to be that one or both of them were his mates, would he pursue a relation with the both of them?

Would they even be okay with that? They were brothers, and being the bread of a soul mate sandwich might not sit well with them. What was more, it was totally possible (and altogether likely) that the two didn't even _like_ males.

The more Harry thought of it, the more pronounced his doubts became.

His panicked musings were a ground to a halt when John coughed pointedly and stood. "I don't think I want to be in the room when this… _transaction _occurs…" Sam and Harry flushed while Dean just looked disgruntled.

"There's still an hour of our deal remaining," Harry called, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. The plan didn't stop after Harry negotiated—if things ended the way he just _knew_ they would, then having John around would be very beneficial to him.

John frowned, giving Harry a considering look. "I'll be outside."

Harry merely tilted his head, showing that he heard.

At the sound of the door closing, the three merely sat (or in Dean and Sam's case, stood) in silence as they each pondered what they were about to do.

"So…" Sam drawled, rubbing his neck uneasily. Harry didn't know how best to ease the awkwardness, so he just rolled his shoulders futilely.

"Oh, please!" Dean finally huffed in frustration, looking at the other two occupants of the room in disgust. "You two are acting like a bunch of scared virgins! It's just a little kiss!" He adjusted his jacket confidently, but still he made no move to push things along himself.

"For the record," Harry muttered, "I _am_ a virgin."

Dean gaped, his air of false bravado all but disappearing. "…How old are you again?"

"Twenty-four."

Sam and Dean exchanged incredulous stares. "Uh, no offence," Dean began, not caring if he offended or not, "but you _can't _be older than, what… seventeen?"

"Eighteen, actually," Harry sighed, earning two confused looks. "Physically," Harry clarified, "I'm actually eighteen—which is bloody convenient, yeah?—but mentally, I'm twenty-four."

Dean blinked. "Okay then, Benjamin Button."

Sam clearly wanted Harry to elaborate, but he held his tongue, instead staring at Harry ponderingly. Harry noticed the look and stared back, cocking a brow.

"It's okay to ask questions. In fact, things would probably go a lot smoother if you did."

That seemed to be enough incentive for Sam, who hopped on the opportunity without hesitation. "What are you?"

Harry merely stared, having not expected that. "I'm human." Again, he received blank stares for his honestly. "Merlin, aren't you two hunters? Why does everything I say surprise you?"

"We're hunters, yeah, not gullible," Dean defended, his mouth twisting into a frown.

"You're bloody paranoid, that's what you are," Harry said, growing tired of Dean's negative attitude. Dean opened his mouth to no doubt give a biting retort, but was beat to the punch by his younger, and thankfully much more rational, brother.

"You'll have to excuse, Dean," Sam began warily, giving said hunter a look that requested he kindly shut his trap. "He's just not very trusting of… people after they, ah—"

"Try to kill us," Dean finished, unhelpfully. Sam flashed him a humorless smile and Dean returned it, unperturbed. Harry merely sat quietly, watching them interact in wary amusement.

Harry sighed and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "I was simply protecting my own. You can't exactly fault me for that, now can you?"

"That's another thing," Dean growled. "'Your own' - what's that supposed to mean? And earlier, you kept calling them 'your children'. Didn't you just say you were human?"

"I've already told you." Harry gave Dean a serious glance and the short hunter stilled.

"You mean that god of darkness, crap? You mean you were _serious_?"

"Yes," Harry acknowledged simply.

Once more, looks were exchanged and Harry wondered exactly what they were conveying to each other. During his old life, he, Ron and Hermione had been able to converse silently as well, and his schoolmates would always try to guess what had passed between them. Now Harry understood _exactly_ how they felt. You could see the different emotions traveling the brother's face as they emoted to one another, but you weren't able to make out heads or tails of what they were saying.

Once the silent conversation was finished, Sam was apparently designated as the inquisitor while Dean crossed his arms, face sullen. "So… you're a god? Of…?"

Harry gave him a flat stare. "Darkness."

"Right," Sam coughed awkwardly. "But what does that _mean_?"

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. Now wasn't _that_ just the million pound question?

"I don't mean I govern over shadows or some rubbish, I mean I am the ruler of Dark _creatures_. Before you ask, a dark creature is a being whose soul is compromised of more than fifty-percent Darkness. It's hard to explain to someone who cannot see or feel souls, but every soul has an 'alignment'. Some are in the middle, such as goblins and centaurs—they believe in neither the Darkness nor Light. They're neutral. And then on the opposite end are the Light creatures, such as humans or unicorns—"

"Unicorns are real?" Sam and Dean asked at the same time, the younger with hopeful amazement and the eldest with shocked disgust.

Harry snorted in amusement. "Yes, unicorns are real."

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean groaned while Sam appeared to be lost in awe. "Next you'll be telling me that the tooth fairy is real!"

"She's a bitch," Harry frowned.

Dean gaped.

"Kidding!" Harry crowed, laughing as a look of disgruntlement stole across Dean's face. "No, the tooth fairy isn't real, but fairies _do_ have an unusual love of teeth. They, for some reason, think that teeth shine, so when they find one they replace it with something they think is equally as shiny—usually a rock, but sometimes with coins or jewelry."

Sam was absorbing all that Harry said with amazement. Dean looked as if someone had just dented his Impala, and Harry wasn't exactly sure why.

After several moments of silence, Harry asked, "So? Any other questions?"

Broken from his stupor, Sam shook his head as if to clear it. His look of mistrust had all but faded, and he was now regarding Harry as if he were a wise old professor. "Where do you stand on things such as ghosts or demons? You didn't seem particularly upset when you heard we wanted to kill one."

"Ghosts are just the souls of humans that refuse to move on," Harry explained, "but when they become tainted by too much Darkness they transform into a poltergeist or ghoul. That has nothing to do with me, however, as they're already _dead_. You can't exactly kill or give life to what's dead, can you?

"As for demons," Harry practically snarled, "I have _no_ love for them. I guess you could think of them as my _very_ distant nephews, but personally, I would rather see them all wiped out. Nasty abominations, the lot of them."

Harry's indignation didn't seem forced or faked, which relieved both Sam and Dean greatly. If there was _one_ thing they could all agree on, it was that demons were twisted sons of bitches that were better off eliminated.

"Is that why you helped us?" Sam queried curiously, after flashing his silent brother a glance. "Because you hate demons?"

"No," Harry smiled, voice hesitant. "I, uh—had ulterior motives, as I'm sure you know?"

Dean began coughing violently and Sam grew still, both of them suddenly reminded of the kisses they owed to the boy they had slowly begun relaxing around. Unfortunately, with that innocuous comment, they were once more on guard and staring at Harry uncomfortably.

"R-Right," Sam gulped. He avoided Harry's gaze and instead stared off at the far corner of the room. Harry's own embarrassment was being steadily replaced by amusement at the Winchester's reactions. "Is there… is there a reason you wanted… um, _that_ as payment?"

Harry frowned, weighing the pros and cons of simply telling the truth. It would probably be best if he refrained from the exact reason until he was perfectly sure. "Yes," Harry allowed finally. "I need to confirm something…"

"And what's that?" Dean asked suspiciously.

Harry met his gaze evenly. "I'll tell you _after _I've confirmed it."

The inevitable kisses were on all of their minds, and once more the motel room disintegrated into an uneasy silence. Harry was growing impatient. He wanted to just get this over with and find out once and for all if he had a soul mate... or _two_.

Sam was once more staring at nothing, his face scrunched up in consternation as his fists clenched reflexively. Dean's arms were folded across his chest and he was shooting distrustful glances at Harry, no doubt wondering what trick he was trying to pull on them.

Finally, Sam was the first to move. He was clearly uncomfortable but he manned up and drew in a deep breath. Then, with purposeful steps, he marched over to where Harry sat and plopped down beside the startled King.

Harry felt the heat radiating from Sam's body sitting so close to him and couldn't help but shiver. His magic jolted in recognition, like a dog rising to its feet once its master entered the room. That was a curious reaction, but it was lost on Harry, whose mind was becoming clouded from the smell wafting from the other male. It was primal and natural, littered with just a _hint_ of cologne.

Sam was staring at his lap hesitantly, but offered a tentative smile when Harry looked up at him. "I don't think we've been properly introduced," Sam said quietly, extending his hand. "I'm Sam Winchester."

"Harry Potter," said boy replied, taking the offered hand. A spike of electricity traveled through him at the touch, sending his heart racing. Sam seemed to have felt it as well, the look in his eyes changing the slightest bit.

"Nice to meet you," Sam whispered lowly, massaging Harry's hand gently with his thumb. Harry felt his face heating up at the mostly innocent touch, his eyes flickering from their joined hands and back into eyes which seemed to bore into him.

Harry nodded, swallowing thickly and licking his lips. Sam's eyes followed Harry's tongue as it traced his mouth, his eyes suddenly darkening. "L-Likewise," Harry finally managed to choke out, feeling every bit as much of a virgin as Dean accused him of being earlier.

Harry felt like he would simply combust from the feel of Sam's thumb sailing over the back of his hand. And the dark hunger that seemed to be shining in the tall hunter's eyes—it caused heat to pool in Harry's belly.

"I guess I should kiss you now," Sam said, eyes still on Harry's lips.

Harry's breath caught in his throat at the heated look in Sam's eyes and the slight husk of his voice. "I… I think you should," Harry agreed, beyond the point of caring about anything besides feeling Sam's mouth on his. Sam smiled at his answer and slowly began to dip his face downward.

Harry found himself becoming lost in Sam's eyes as their faces neared, his hand still held firmly in Sam's own. They were close enough to share breaths now, and Harry panted lightly, imagining what those lips that were _so close_ would taste and feel like. Sam, however, seemed content to tease Harry, his hot breath ghosting over Harry's parted mouth. At last growing tired of it, Harry leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between them.

Immediately, the outside world disappeared, and there was only he and Sammy. His magic leapt from beyond his control, latching onto Sam and marking him as his own—his soul mate. Satisfied that its mark was made, his magic retreated back inside himself, purring and humming in contentment.

Sam's lips were firm and insistent against Harry's own, their mouths slanting together fervently. Sam had finally let go of Harry's hand and was instead using it to grip the back of Harry's head firmly. With his free hand, Sam traversed the planes of Harry's side, delighting in every shiver he managed to elicit from the much smaller man.

Harry felt as if he were being consumed, lost in a torrent of burning fire and electricity. It was as if after so long, he was finally where he belonged—in Sam's arms. A sense of adoration and safety flooded him, and he never thought it was possible for him to feel this way. Not after everything he'd been through.

Sam didn't take this kiss too far. He lightly nibbled Harry's lower lip before pulling away, his eyes darkened almost to the point of being black. He was panting lightly, staring down at Harry with a look that filled Harry with _so_ many emotions: lust, affection, security, submission. He didn't know how it was _possible_ for a single look to be so powerful.

A sudden cough from the corner made them spring apart. Dean was staring at them in shock, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. Harry's blushing returned tenfold and he thought he would literally melt into the bed when he saw Sam shifting to hide his rather _obvious_ problem. In fact, Harry had a problem of his own, but his clothing was better suited to hide it.

"Okay," Dean began in blank bewilderment, "what the hell was that?"

Sam flashed Harry an uncertain glance and Harry looked down, biting his lip. Should he tell them the truth? Or should he wait until after he'd kissed Dean as well? He already had a hunch as to what the result of that would be. He was preparing himself to tell the truth, but Sam spoke first.

"I—I don't know," Sam admitted, once more rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "B-But, the debt is paid, right? For the bullets?"

Harry frowned, but nodded. Sam seemed to have felt the connection when they kissed, but now that they were apart, the effects of it seemed to have lessened. The tall hunter's eyes still held a hint of dark possessiveness, but it was being overridden by his own shock and confusion.

The thought of his _soul mate_—for there was no doubt that Sam was anything less—not wanting anything to do with him… It filled Harry with a great sadness. He had found what seemed to be missing from his life and to have it snatched away from him so soon... There could be no greater an injustice.

Trying to brush away his sudden pain, Harry instead turned toward Dean with a hesitant smile. "Well, _half_ the bullets have been paid for, anyway."

Sam chuckled and ducked his head. "I'm a - uh… I'll be in the bathroom."

Hands covering his front suspiciously, Sam stood and strode awkwardly toward the bathroom. The sound of the door locking was startlingly loud in the now quiet motel room.

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his cropped hair, once more appearing resigned. "Well, I guess I have no choice, do I?" The hunter grimaced and looked anywhere but at the green-eyed boy waiting patiently on the bed.

With obvious reluctance, Dean walked across the room and sat on the divan as far away from Harry as possible. Harry sighed at the hunter's disposition, but he couldn't blame him. That had also been his attitude at first, but now Harry admitted he was starting to look forward to kissing Dean—despite the man's unpleasant attitude.

To be honest, both of the brothers were attractive in their own way: Sam with his vulnerable puppy look, and Dean with his bad boy persona. Even if they _weren't_ soul mates, Harry could say that he wouldn't mind engaging in some less than conventional fun.

The thought made Harry want to groan and slap himself. He was being corrupted by his sex-crazed incubus friend.

Harry barely resisted jumping when he noticed Dean watching him, eyes narrowed and thoughtful.

"What?" Harry asked, feeling suddenly self conscious.

"What did you do to Sammy?" Dean demanded. "Slipped him some Viagra? Hit him with some sort or witch spell?"

"I didn't do anything," Harry admitted seriously. He sighed at the look on Dean's face and decided to just say it—he had confirmed what he wanted, partway at least, so it was time he told the truth. "Really, I _didn't _do anything to him… but he—and you, too, I think—are… you're my soul mates."

Dean stared at him blankly. "You have _got _to be kidding me."

Harry's heart clenched and he sighed, refusing to meet Dean's gaze. "That's why I needed to kiss you. I won't be able to confirm if you were my soul mate until we kissed."

"No way," Dean denied immediately, shaking his head resolutely. "I don't believe you, and besides, I'm God's gift to _women_. I'm not gay."

"I never said you were," Harry frowned. Dean looked ready to simply get up and walk out of the door, so Harry reminded him of how he'd gotten there in the first place. "You still owe me… for the bullets."

Dean stilled, his eyes guarded. He simply stared at Harry for several moments before swallowing, shoulders slumping in resignation. "I'm not your soul mate, and I'm only doing this for the bullets."

Harry inclined his head in acknowledgement, having not deluded himself into thinking otherwise. He was a little hurt, but he _refused_ to let Dean know how much he was affected. "I know… but you'll understand once we…" Harry trailed off, a blush lightly dusting his cheeks.

Dean didn't respond, but he scooted closer warily. At Dean's pace, they would be there all night, so Harry scooted over as well, the two meeting in the middle of the bed.

All of Dean's bravado seemed to disappear, and he coughed awkwardly. "…So…"

Harry grinned lightly, bolstered by Dean's lack of certainty. "So…?"

Dean looked down at him, a frown on his face. "You have Sammy drool on your mouth."

Rolling his eyes, Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and stared at the hunter pointedly. Satisfied, Dean closed his eyes and puckered his lips. "Let's get this over with."

Harry froze, unsure if Dean was kidding or not. When he realized that, no, Dean _wasn't_ kidding, he couldn't help the giggle that escaped him.

Dean relaxed his face and cracked open an eye. "What's so funny?"

"You," Harry said, shaking his head. "I don't know what you have against me..." Dean snorted. "Okay, so I _do_ know, but we have to get past that. If the positions had been reversed, you would have wanted to kill me as well. In fact—you've threatened to kill me _numerous_ times, and I haven't been half as much of a prat about it as you are."

"Yeah, well…" Dean shrugged uselessly, having no honest rebuttal. "At least I don't go around _tricking _people."

"If you mean the Colt, we _negotiated_. Fair and square." When Dean's dead pan stare didn't falter, Harry's eyes lit up in understanding. "You're still bitter that I tricked you in the forest!" Harry laughed when Dean scowled, both of them remembering how thoroughly he'd been deceived. "If I recall correctly, _you _were trying to trick _us. _Car trouble? _Really_?"

The short hunter at least had the grace to appear properly chastised. "Alright… so we gave as good as we got. That still doesn't mean I like you."

Harry smiled, pleased. "That's alright. Its progress."

"Oh god," Dean groaned, "I'm having a _moment _with the god of evil; kill me now!"

"Not evil," Harry laughed, "just Darkness. There's a difference."

Dean snorted, although there was a spark of humor in his eyes. "Whatever, let's just get this over with…"

Harry waited for Dean to _move_, but it soon became apparent that he would not be taking the lead. Fed up with the waiting game the two seemed to be playing, Harry pounced. He swung his legs around the hunter's waist and straddled him, much to the shock of Dean who grabbed his hips on instinct.

Harry grinned a little sinfully at being in such a compromising position with Dean. He almost laughed out loud when Dean suddenly blushed, no doubt knowing _exactly_ what they position they were in looked like. Dean didn't appear to be _against_ homosexuality, but he certainly wasn't in any hurry to participate in it.

"Relax, Dean," Harry sighed when Dean just continued to sit stiffly under him—and not the _good_ kind of stiff. "It's just a little kiss." With those whispered words, Harry grabbed Dean's chin lightly and forced the hunter to look up at him.

Dean's olive green eyes were wide, but there was a spark of _something _in them. Harry didn't know how the soul mate bond worked between them, but he was sure physical contact had something to do with it.

As to test his theory, Harry took the same hand he had used to grasp Dean's chin to lightly stroke the man's stubbled face. The short hunter shivered at his touch, his eyes darkening and mouth parting slightly, drawing Harry's attention.

Dean had some of the pinkest lips Harry had ever seen. They were bow shaped and cute and just _kissable_. Drawn in by those perfect lips, Harry lowered his head slowly until his forehead was resting against Dean's, their mouths only inches apart. Dean had now closed his eyes and his hands tightened almost painfully on Harry's slender hips.

For some reason, having Dean under him and helpless sent a spike of arousal through Harry. Still enraptured by lips that were just so _perfect_, Harry leaned forward to capture them with his own. This time when his magic soared and marked Dean as his, Harry was able to feel it.

Harry didn't think it possible for a single kiss to be able to complete him—and he was right. It took two. Now that he had found and marked both of his soul mates, a feeling of fulfillment washed over him, making him attack Dean's lips even hungrier.

Dean's lips were just as soft as they looked and Harry couldn't help but release a breathy sigh at the feel of them. Heat flooded his veins and just like with Sam, emotions began hammering Harry relentlessly, feeling him so with so much adoration and security and _happiness. _

Dean's hands on his waist finally released their deathlike grip and began to move. They traced hesitantly along Harry's thighs before traveling back up and over his sides and back, slowly gaining more and more confidence. When those curious hands found their way to his backside and squeezed, Harry couldn't help but squeak into their still joined mouths. He pulled from the kiss, another undignified squeak leaving him when Dean gave his bum a solid pat.

The hunter under him laughed gruffly in amusement before rocking forward suddenly, brushing their arousals together. This time Harry moaned, mouth open and eyes closed as pleasure tingled throughout his body. Dean repeated the gesture, a slow grin curling his lips when Harry rested his head in the crook of his neck, a broken whimper escaping him.

Unfortunately, before things could get _too_ heavy, the sound of the bathroom door opening managed to penetrate the fog permeating through Harry's mind. With a short cry, Harry leaped out of Dean's lap and sat innocently with a pillow covering his obvious problem, just in time when Sam walked into the room.

Sam looked much more relaxed, and it didn't exactly take a rocket scientist to figure out what he had been up to. Harry eyed the pillow in his lap and was pretty sure he would need to do the exact same thing if he was _ever _going to get to sleep that night.

Sam paused when he spotted Dean, and Harry couldn't help but shake his head in amusement. The man was still sitting with his mouth slightly agape, hands forward as if reaching for something and a very prominent tent in his jeans.

Sam took one look at Dean before looking at Harry and the pillow covering his lap. He raised an eyebrow, but wisely chose to remain silent.

Harry snapped his fingers next to Dean's ears, and finally, the man jerked as if realizing for the first time where he was and looked around the room. His gaze first went to Sam, then to Harry, and finally to the rather obvious and twitching problem in his pants.

"Holy shit," he whispered. He stood and walked through the open bathroom door. Before he closed it, he once more repeated, "_Holy shit_!"

Harry chuckled at the man's reaction and Sam rubbed at his face awkwardly, his expression a curious mixture of horror and amusement.

Now that it was done, he couldn't help but shake his head for accomplishing yet another feat that would go down in history books. Harry Potter was apparently the first person in recorded history to have two soul mates.


	9. Path From Here

_A/N: _::collapses::

This was definitely not easy on my brain. My writing is going under some sort of metamorphosis, so... yeah. Don't have much else to say, so, hope you enjoy it!

I'd appreciate it if you left a reviewing telling me your thoughts.

**o0o**

Thoughts swirled through Sam's head in an endless cycle of repetitiveness. When he agreed to kissing Harry, it had been just as stated; he was taking one for the team. What was a little gay kiss if it netted them the tools needed to take down the demon that murdered both his mother and girlfriend? Sam would have been willing to do _much_ worse if it meant he got to see the bastard dead… so, he kissed him.

What he _hadn't_ expected was to be consumed by a burning fire in the pit of his stomach and a need to thoroughly _claim _the smaller man who whimpered underneath his touch. Electricity had flowed through his veins with every touch; at the sound of every moan… it had only served to spike the voltage coursing through him higher.

The knowledge that his mother died before he was even able to remember her face created a void inside of him. Over the course of his life, the void increased in size, bit by bit, but it wasn't until the death of his girlfriend, Jess, that it became a gaping black hole that threatened to devour him and everyone in his path. Yet, despite the enormity of the vortex within him, with just a simple brush of lips from Harry, that darkness had seemed to disappear—if only for a moment. In that short spine of time when it had been only he and Harry in the entire universe, despite all the pain and sorrow of his life, he had been at ease. Content.

But now that he was away from Harry's immediately presence, the fire which had been so hot and all consuming was cooling. It was still there, waiting to be ignited at even the smallest spark, but it was at a manageable level. Now, even a glance at the green-eyed man tried to light the fire, but it wasn't quite enough. During the kiss he had felt like a man possessed, yet now he felt in control of his own actions, his own thoughts—but the _things _he felt and thought made him doubt.

Was he _really _one-hundred percent himself? Had Harry done something to him to make him feel this way? Something in Harry's touched that bewitched all who met him?

It would explain _so _much: the vampires, his brother, _himself_.

Unfortunately, there were some small chips in his otherwise solid theory. Harry appeared just as affected as he was. Sam didn't want to toot his own horn, but the sound of pleasure Harry made wasn't faked, and the erection Sam had felt rubbing against him… that was _definitely _not forced. Then there was the fact that he could question it _at all. _He couldn't be _too _far underneath a spell if he was able to think things through and have doubts.

If he was of his right mind, then why was he feeling this way? And for someone of the male persuasion no less? He never thought he'd feel this way again… not after Jess.

Then there was Dean.

His brother was currently in the bathroom doing things Sam would rather not think about, and it had been caused by the bright-eyed boy watching him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Dean was _not _the type to get so worked up over a _male_. He was a womanizer, through and through—and it should _really_ be a crime for someone to look as appealing as Harry did, lips plump from biting them and face still a little flushed from his _activities_.

Little Sammy was perking up in interest even though he had already dealt with it five minutes ago. Sam stared down at his lap in growing horror.

…What was happening to him?

Harry's soft lips were moving, but Sam was too enraptured to notice. Harry's mouth really _was _enchanting, and they had felt like velvet against his own. And the _taste… _it had been like drinking the finest ambrosia and Sam was thirsty for another sip.

He didn't pay his surrounding the slightest thought… at least, until a pillow sailed across the room and smacked him solidly in the face.

Once he got over the shock of attacking pillows, he was able to hear Harry's amused chuckles from the other side of the room.

Sam quirked a smile in return, coming back to himself. "Ha-ha, very funny."

"You weren't paying attention to me," Harry said by way of explanation, shrugging innocently. "Did you hear a word I said?"

"Uh…"

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. "I don't like repeating myself, so listen this time, okay?" At Sam's sheepish nod of acceptance, Harry smiled. "I need to ask you something."

"Okay," Sam blinked. "What?"

"Did you feel anything?" Harry asked, avoiding eye contact and a flush once more rising slowly to color his cheeks. "You know… when we…"

Sam couldn't help but chuckle at the shyness Harry was exhibiting. Seeing Harry so nervous unconsciously soothed his own anxiety. "…I… I did."

Harry smiled in relief. "Good."

His hunter instincts sparked and Sam couldn't help the narrowing of his eyes. "Why is that? Was I _supposed_ to feel something?"

Harry was once more behaving slightly evasive, which did nothing to assuage Sam's doubts. He spoke just as Dean exited the bathroom. "Yes. You see, well… you're my - my soul mate."

"You mean we both are?" Dean asked, turning to Sam aghast.

"What are you two talking about?" Sam questioned, not sure if he even wanted to know as both Dean and Harry began looking everywhere but at each other.

"You're my soul mate, Sam," Harry repeated, offering a wan smile that dropped into a grimace. "And so is Dean. You're both my soul mates."

Sam shared a look with Dean. His brother's eyes were wide and he appeared a little overwhelmed. Sam knew—or at least, _thought_ he knew—what a soul mate was… but he had never heard of them occurring between humans. "You mean like vampires?" Sam asked, voice hesitant. "Who mate for _life_?"

Dean gaped at the implications and turned to Harry, clearly hoping that was not the case.

Harry winced at the look and nodded, not meeting their gazes. "Yes… a soul mate is like that. Almost like a fragment of your soul—someone who completes you. Or in my case, _someones_."

"You and me?" Dean asked, receiving a slow nod from Harry. "And you and Sam?" Again, Harry nodded. "…Me and… Sammy?"

"No!" Harry denied immediately, looking at the two brothers who sighed in relief. He bit his lip and tilted his face toward the ceiling. "Well… unless of course you want to."

"No," Dean and Sam said at the same time.

Harry stared at them, a wry grin on his face. "So… do you believe me?"

Sam's mind was overflowing with doubts and explanations for what Harry was doing to them… but, just as he had in his vision that seemed like years ago, he felt it again now—a certainty that Harry was telling him the truth.

"I believe you," Sam admitted, staring deeply into Harry's emerald green eyes. Harry's smile was like sunlight shining through a dark grey sky. It was heartbreaking in its sincere relief, joy, and underneath the surface, shock. It took Sam's breath away and left him momentarily speechless. Once he recovered, he returned the smile as best he could.

Harry turned to Dean and his smile lost some of its brilliance. "…Dean?"

After flashing an almost fearful look at his brother, Dean turned back to Harry and simply stared. Sam knew his brother, so he knew exactly what to look for. Dean swallowed lightly before rubbing his ear. Then, he looked away and once more stared at Harry.

His brother was conflicted. Like Sam, Dean _wanted _to give in to the new and foreign emotions pouring into him, but he was scared—and maybe he was right to be. At last, shoulders slumped in defeat and he rubbed at his hair in aggravation. "Fine," he sighed, "say I _do_ believe that you're my... _whatever_ - so what? What happens now?"

Sam turned to Harry, wondering the exact same thing as well.

Gone was the powerful supernatural being that Sam had feared, and in its place now stood a boy who appeared to have just as many doubts as the rest of them. His eyes were lowered to the ground and his lip was once more between his cheeks—but there was a _spark _of light in his eyes.

"Uh… I don't know? I never thought you'd agree - hell, I wasn't even sure I _wanted_ you to be my soul mates."

"You weren't sure," Dean repeated in a blank voice, earning a flat stare from Harry.

"No, I wasn't," Harry admitted, staring down at his hands. "But now I am. I… I don't know how to put it into words. I just _know_ that this is what I want. To be with you guys." Again, Harry's face reddened, but Sam found it endearing.

That feeling of peace and contentment was once more stealing over him, but this time Sam let it. He could fight against the connection he felt and maybe miss the best thing to happen in him miserable life, or he could simply embrace it fully and maybe learn what it meant to be _happy _again.

"That's all well and good," Dean snarked, eyeing the wall in displeasure, "but I repeat: what the hell do we do now?"

Sam sent Dean his best glare when Harry's shoulders slumped. "I think we should get to know each other," Sam suggested, smiling when Harry brightened the slightest bit. "If you're our… our soul mate, then we should… I don't know–date?"

Harry 's eyes went wide and he squeaked out, "D-Date?"

"Well, yeah," Sam shrugged. "That's what people who try to get to know each other… do."

The green-eyed man's eyes went from Sam and back to Dean, who returned it seriously. Something seemed to pass between them and the shorter hunter looked away.

"…Whatever," Dean muttered.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's attitude, but shared an amused smile with Harry.

Sam wasn't sure where this could go or if it would end well for any of them. But he was willing to try, and that was at least a start.

**o0o**

"So," Harry began, a happy grin on his face. "Who wants to break the news to dear old dad?"

"We can't!" Sam denied, a look of panic on his face.

"I agree," Dean frowned before his face twisted. "And don't call him 'dad'. It's creepy."

Harry sighed but inclined his head in acknowledgement. "What should I tell him then? I had, ah… planned on using him to convince you two that you were my soul mates, but now that there's no longer a need for that…" Harry trailed off with a shrug, ignoring the incredulous stares being sent his way. "What? I doubt you would have believed cupid, so it had to be your father."

"Cupid?" Dean asked, voice incredulous. "The fat guy in a diaper? _That _cupid?"

"He's trying to diet," Harry said, defensive. "But yeah, the fat guy—although he doesn't wear a diaper…"

Dean and Sam raised an eyebrow as he trailed off, but he made no move to elaborate. He simply stared ahead, eyes just a little haunted before he shook himself, clearing the unpleasant memories.

"Anyway! I didn't expect you two to agree… and so easily at that." He peered at Dean as he spoke, and the shorter hunter sighed.

"Don't get me wrong," Dean said, "I haven't agreed to _anything_. That is… I'm just around to make sure Sam doesn't get in over his head."

Harry shot the man a deadpan stare, but was content to let him stew in whatever delusions he managed to conjure up for himself. He turned to Sam, wondering what the youngest Winchester's reason for agreeing so readily was.

"Honestly? I don't know… there's just something in me." Sam placed a hand on his chest and met Harry's astonished gaze evenly. "It just, it recognizes you as… as mine." Sam flushed a little in embarrassment.

Dean made retching noises. "Gag me."

"Believe me, I wish I could," Harry muttered.

Dean heard and flashed him a mock hurt stare. Before he could open his mouth, however, the door opened and a curious John Winchester peeked in.

"John," Harry acknowledged, alerting Dean and Sam to the man's sudden presence as well. "What are you doing here?"

John grimaced, still in the effects of his promise to tell the truth. "I was just making sure that no one killed anyone. It was too quiet."

Harry smiled, his aloof king-like mask sliding into place. For Dean and Sam who had seen the real him, it was a shocking and abrupt change.

"We're all fine," Harry assured, turning to the brothers for confirmation.

"Oh, yeah, we're peachy!" Dean smiled, but his eyes had a pinched quality. Thankfully, John only gave him a considering stare before turning his attention to his youngest son.

"You boys okay?"

"We're fine, dad," Sam said, much smoother than Dean.

John eyed him as well, as if searching for any falsehoods before he turned back to Harry. "So, we're done here, right? If so, kindly get the hell outta here."

Dean and Sam stiffened, their eyes narrowing the slightest bit. Harry noticed them coiling in indignation and spoke up before they could say or do something they would regret.

"Not quite, but almost." When three confused glances were sent his way, Harry removed a small cellular phone from his pocket and held it up for all to see.

"I thought you were just happy to see me," Dean said with a cocky grin. With a look from his father he coughed and stared at the wall in interest.

Harry snorted and shook his head. "I bought this cell phone today. I assume you guys have one as well?"

They all answered affirmative, John with obvious reluctance.

"Alright. I don't know the first thing about muggle technology, so, uh… Sam?"

Sam rolled his eyes but stepped forward and removed the phone from a sheepish Harry's grip. "Look, here…" Harry stepped closer to the tall hunter, invading his personal space and brushing lightly against Sam's exposed arm. The tall hunter flashed a hesitant smile down at him than began showing him how to use the phone. Harry listened and watched intently as he inputted all of their numbers into Harry's contacts and then put Harry's own number into his phone.

When Sam was done explaining, he handed the phone back to his new-found mate and gave a small smile. "You get all of that?"

Harry deliberately brushed their fingers together when he took the phone, grinning when Sam shook and flashed a startled look. "Yeah, I got it. Thanks, Sam." For added effect, he gave a salacious wink, his grin only widening when Sam sputtered.

"N-No problem."

John watched the byplay with narrowed eyes, his lip curled back dangerously. "Now leave."

"What's the hurry, John?" Harry called, brow raised in the man's direction. "Are you that impatient to get rid of me?"

"Yes," John bit out.

Harry chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "Alright. I know when not to overstep my boundaries. But don't forget, if you spot one of my children-" He turned to Sam and Dean, his smile becoming more playful. "-call me."

With a final grin and salute, Harry walked past John and out the door, throwing a final wave goodbye over his shoulder. His mates returned it after a moment's pause, but they both dropped their arms in a hurry with a simple glare from their father.

Harry merely chuckled, resisting the urge to whistle. His steps felt lighter and his magic thrummed inside his veins. It had been years since he felt this good, and it was something he wanted to keep with him forever.

**o0o**

"What the hell was that?" John snarled as soon as Harry was out the door. He was at the window, making sure the man wasn't lingering about and he turned toward his sons once he was certain.

Dean plastered an innocent look on his face and turned toward his brother, as if to see ifhe knew the answer. When Sam just shrugged, Dean once more regarded their father. "What was what?"

John's eyes narrowed and he reached into his jacket pocket. Dean stiffened, expecting the worse, but he let out a breath of relief when instead of a gun, his father revealed a silver flask. John held it out toward him and Dean stared.

"Dad—"

"Drink it," John demanded, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, Dean snatched the flask from the man's grip and shared a look with his brother. "Fine," Dean said, making a big show of bringing the holy water to his lip and taking a large gulp.

When he was done, he gave an exaggerated sigh of pleasure and stared at his father. "See? Not possessed."

John didn't respond, but his gaze slide toward Sam and once more Dean sighed, this time in exasperation.

Sam took the holy water and downed it quickly before returning it back to their appeased father.

"Mind telling us what that was about?" Dean asked when their father merely walked over to the bed and sat.

The man looked up at him, his eyes having lost their suspicious quality but still appearing wary. "You boys," he began, watching the two of them, "…something happened."

"You mean besides the lip lock?" Sam flashed Dean an incredulous stare, but the shorter hunter ignored it, instead staring into his father's eyes.

"Son… what's gotten into you?"

Dean looked away from his father's gaze. "Nothing," he sniffed. Sam cocked a dubious eyebrow, but didn't call Dean out on his lie.

The truth was… anger coiled inside him like a poisonous python, prepared to strike. He wasn't angry at Harry, nor was he angry at Sam; no, he was angry at their father, but most of all, he was angry with _himself_.

The way their father had _looked _at Harry as if he were… some sort of disgusting _thing_. It was a look Dean himself had worn on numerous occasions. In fact, he was sure he once looked at Harry that way as well… and he had also turned that look on his own brother.

It was a vision look. A look that said what you were staring at was abnormal, unnatural… and would probably be better off with a bullet between its eyes.

Now, shame filled him for turning that disgusted look on his blood—his _family_; and he even regretted regarding Harry in such a way.

In an explosion of mystical light inspired in him from Harry's kiss, the world seemed to reshape itself before his very eyes. Dean wasn't a philosophical man or prone to sudden epiphanies on life; in fact, he scoffed at the mere thought. Yet, what he had never even knew he wanted… what he had always been _missing—_it fell into his life without preamble, and Dean found himself unwilling to let it go, no matter how much his head told him he should. For once in his life, he was acting on his _heart_, and his heart wanted Harry.

So, to see his father staring at Harry in such a way… It reminded him of the life they'd led, the way they'd been brought up, and the new conflicting feelings inside of him that warred for dominance. Should he side with his father, who was always there for he and his brother and raised them the best he could? Or should he throw in his chips with the newcomer, the one he knew next to nothing about but sparked something in him that he thought died long ago?

Dean didn't know. There wasn't much he _could _do except play it by ear—see where things went and allow himself to be swept up by the tide. His heart thumped against his rips at the thought, but something inside of him, something nameless and honest, it recognized Harry for what he really was and accepted him without preamble.

Sighing, Dean shook his head and stared up at his family. They were watching him with concern and wariness, the latter of which coming from his father. The shorter hunter, however, did nothing to assuage them and instead gave a bitter smile.

"So, we pimped ourselves for the bullets."

John winced but his unique expression of suspicious concern didn't falter. "Right. We now have the Colt and the bullets—"

"Which means we can go after the demon," Sam finished, a look of bitter determination darkening his face.

"Sammy," John sighed, turning toward the tall hunter. "You boys _are not_ coming with me."

"And why the hell not?" Dean asked, startling the rest of his family. The inquisitive looks were back, but Dean ignored them with purpose, his hard gaze on his father.

This time, instead of letting Dean's brazen behavior slide, their father's face began clouding in anger. "I've already told you, we tried working together and look where it's gotten us. No, you boys are a liability—a liability I can't afford to have."

"That's crap, dad," Sam said, rising to his feet. "Yeah, this hunt didn't go like any of us planned, but _that's life_. You can't protect us forever, dad. Whether you like it or not, we're hunters—you _raised _us to be this way, so don't… don't go trying to be a concerned parent, now!"

"Sammy," John whispered, his eyes wide and staring at his youngest son as if he were seeing him for the first time.

Dean sighed, his own anger draining from him at Sam's words. "Sam's right, dad. You… you raised us this way, and we're family. That demon hurt _all _of us, so it's only fair we all kill it together. Besides, we're stronger as a family. You know that."

Again, John was left speechless, his mouth open but no words leaving him. He closed his eyes and sighed with a small shake of his head. After several moments, John's lids opened, his gaze set.

"Alright," he said, earning two strong nods from his sons. "We'll do this your way—one last time, and we'll kill this demonic son of a bitch. As a family."

Sam gave a grim smile which was mirrored by his brother. "Yes, sir," the two echoed.

**o0o**

Harry was walking on air, his heart light and the ever-present weight on his shoulders all but forgotten. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so relaxed, but it was refreshing. Being the King of Dae was a twenty-four hour job that _had _no breaks, yet with two kisses from his soul mate, it was as if he were coming away from a relaxed vacation on a tropical island.

"That good, huh?"

Harry turned toward the direction of the voice and couldn't keep the scowl off his face when he noticed the smiling face of his secretary. He had just walked back into his hotel room after leaving his mates when Alouran asked the question. He was halfway done with removing his jacket, but he paused and stared. He was in too nice a mood to have it hampered by his friend's teasing, so he instead chose to ignore him and took off his jacket as if he hadn't heard anything.

"Oh yeah, it _had _to have been," Alouran said when Harry walked over and sank into his bed with a content sigh. "Harry," Alouran called, voice singsong.

Of course, he was ignored.

Alouran huffed, eyes narrowing as he straightened on his own bed to get a better look at Harry. The man's face was open and serene, and there was a spark of something foreign in his eyes that the incubus hadn't seen in _ever_. It wasn't happiness, as he had seen Harry light up at a simple slice of pie; no, it was something else. Something which Alouran just _couldn't _put his finger on.

"Harry," Alouran tried again, the result being the same—him being ignored. "Please talk to me! I'll just _die _unless you give me the juicy details!"

Harry rolled over on his bed so that he was no longer facing the pouting incubus. "I can't hear you."

"Yes you can! Come on, I know you kissed them! You have that 'just snogged' look on your face!"

By now, Alouran was hopping up and down on his bed as if he were a petulant child, repeating Harry's name over and over. Finally, Harry cracked, turning toward his friend with his eyebrows drown downward in displeasure.

"Details," Alouran demanded.

"What is this, a muggle slumber party?" Harry groused, but Alouran heard the resignation in his tone and cheered, on the other man's bed in a flash.

"I'll do your nails if you do mine!" At Harry's horrified stare, Alouran laughed out loud and settled more comfortably atop the bed. "No, seriously Harry, you can talk to me! I won't tease! …Well, _much_, anyway."

Sighing in acceptance, Harry stared at his friend. He cleared his throat, but made no move to speak. A flush was already crawling across his nose and his friend watched, his knowing grin stretching all the more wider.

"We kissed," Harry said, shrugging as if to make light of the matter.

In typical fashion, Alouran was not the type to treat _anything _with decorum. He squealed and made as if to sweep Harry into a hug, but a flat stare from said boy stopped him cold. "Oh my god, Harry, this is so _amazing_! So? How was it?"

As if it couldn't be any worse, Alouran had to go and wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, reminding Harry in a flash of all the _fun _that had come about. He blushed, staring away from Alouran's sinful grin. "It-It was good…"

"And…?"

"And… what?"

"Come on!" Alouran cried, rolling his eyes. "Where's the juicy details! At least tell me if they were your soul mates or not!"

"They were my soul mates," Harry allowed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to his chest. At Alouran's look, he gave a sudden grin. "And… it was pretty much the most _amazing _thing ever!"

Harry allowed himself to be swept up into Alouran's excitement. He knew they were acting like thirteen year-old girls, but just like how Harry managed to bring out Alouran's inner toddler, so too could the incubus bring out Harry's giddy inner teenage girl.

There was much laughing and teasing abound, but Harry enjoyed it—no matter how much he would deny it later. A warm feeling settled in his chest at just being able to sit around and talk about _normal _things like kissing and how appealing his mates were. During his old life, he was too busy worrying about destroying Voldemort to sit still and enjoy what he already had. Before he even knew it was happening, his teenage years were over and done with. Things remained the same in his new life, as well.

As the King of Dae, there was no _time _to worry about such trivial things, not with paperwork to sort or meetings to attend. He was occupied, and that kept his mind away from such dangerous pitfalls as that thing called 'love' or hell, even 'fun'.

It was only because he was at such an impasse that the moments he was allowed to bask in now even came to be. Once it returned to business as usual… would he even have _time _for a soul mate? Harry didn't know, and he didn't want to think about it. Instead, he wanted to take all that he could and cherish it, every single moment.

Who knew when such an opportunity would present itself again? As long as he thought of it as a pleasurable business trip, he could enjoy himself without reservation.

…Right?


	10. So Near, So Far

_A/N: _Haha, I think me going a little crazy while testing my writing turned a few people off. Sorry!

Anyway, I had a lot of trouble pinpointing exactly where I wanted this story to go from here because I recently caught up on season 5, which gave me some very good ideas. I hope I can do everything I want in this story~! Only time will tell.

Anyway, stuff moves forward, slowly but surely. Tell me watcha think in a review, yeah?

**o0o**

The next morning, Harry awoke to the sound of Alouran singing in the shower—something that was impossible to listen to for an extended period of time without going insane. His face twisted as he listened to the garbled and cracked melody drifting from the doorway, unable to help the sigh that escaped him. With no chance of falling back to sleep, Harry sat up just as the atrocious singing stopped and the sound of the shower door knob being turned reached his ears.

After several moments, the door opened and Alouran strode in, clad in only a blue bath towel around his waist. Harry raised an eyebrow, but Alouran merely smiled and lit up.

"Oh, Harry, you're awake!"

Harry's less than hospitable face spoke of his displeasure to be up at—a quick glance at the clock showed it was barely even seven AM. Groaning, Harry once more turned back to his now humming best friend. "What are you doing up so early?"

Alouran looked up from searching through his bags and shot Harry a look that said he should already know. When Harry just continued to stare, showing that, no, he _didn't _know, Alouran huffed and went back to looking through his things. "Your soul mates, Harry! I want to meet them! You know, when they aren't tied up and flinging death threats."

Harry perked up at the thought of seeing his mates, but he was on edge about them meeting _Alouran_—especially Dean and John. Alouran's wings couldn't be seen by humans, but once they learned what he was, they would be less than hospitable. Then there was the fact that Alouran could be… overbearing. He could already imagine the ensuing chaos the Winchesters and Alouran would bring about should they ever be left alone in close quarters.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Harry said at length, turning away when Alouran dropped his towel without preamble and begin throwing on his clothes, his usual trench coat included.

"Why not?" Alouran asked, plopping onto the bed and staring at his friend once he was finished getting dressed.

"Ah, you…" Harry trailed off and rubbed his chin, wondering how best to phrase what he wanted to say without upsetting the incubus. "Al, no offense, but you're a _little_ hard to handle."

"No I'm not!" Alouran pouted when Harry gave him a pointed stare. "Harry, really, I'll tone it down. I won't make fun of them _or _act like I—as you say—am hyped up on butterbeer."

Although not entirely believing him, Harry _did _want to see his mates again, and he trusted Alouran to at least _try _to act civilly. As long as no one did anything to upset him, the incubus could be rather polite and level-headed.

Sighing, Harry shook his head, relenting. "Okay, you can meet them."

Alouran whooped loudly.

"_But_," Harry cut in, before his friend could grow too excited, "no matter _what _they say or do, try to behave, alright?"

When Alouran gave a mock-salute, Harry once more sighed and headed toward the bathroom to take a shower of his own. He rather felt like a parent sometimes when Alouran got into one of his moods, but Harry loved the incubus and couldn't imagine him any other way. He just hoped that the Winchesters managed to feel the same.

**o0o**

The sun was high in the sky and continuing its upward ascent. A few white clouds drifted through the sky, allowing a clear view of the expanse of space above. Despite how pleasant the weather _appeared_, the air was crisp and cool, a light fog visible upon exhaling.

Harry and Alouran were outside the rundown motel the Winchesters happened to be staying in, and the familiar Impala was still sitting there, reflecting light like a crystal mirror. Harry half-expected them to leave during the middle of the night and was relieved to know that they hadn't.

The two appeared to be just in time as the door to the brother's room opened, and the two exited, bags slung over their shoulders and exchanging words as they walked.

"There they are," Alouran breathed, as if he had spotted a rare specimen of animal. Harry quirked a brow at his friend's peculiar reaction, but nodded and began his trek across the parking lot toward them, Alouran hot on his heel.

Sam and Dean were just putting their supplies in their car when Dean turned, doing a double take when he realized exactly who they were. Dean elbowed his brother in the ribs and nodded in their direction, bringing the taller hunter's attention toward them as well.

"Hello," Harry greeted with a smile once they were close enough. Sam returned the greeting with a small smile of his own and Dean nodded, his eyes turning to focus on Alouran.

"Who's this?" Dean asked.

Harry frowned, praying Dean wouldn't start anything. "Sam, Dean, this is—"

"Alouran," said incubus finished, flashing the two large grins. He took a step forward and extended his hand.

Sam smiled, but it slipped away when he noticed the claws extending from Alouran's hands. Neither brother made to move forward. Instead, he received a hesitant nod.

Alouran retracted his hand, a bit of his good humor fading.

"I'm Sam." He turned toward his brother, but the shorter hunter just continued to stare, face hostile. With a sigh, Sam gave a hopeless shrug. "And this is my brother, Dean," he gestured toward Dean, who nodded at being acknowledged.

"Nice to meet you," Alouran said, voice pleasant. However, his face began to take on a more playful look and Harry felt his heart sinking. "The legendary Winchester brothers… I've heard _so_ much about you."

Harry felt his face flaming and intervened, before anyone could comment on Al's less than innocuous comment. "Well, you've met them! Now shoo!"

"No way! I still haven't met Daddy Hunter!"

"…Daddy Hunter?" Sam echoed, voice colored in amusement. Dean, however, appeared disgruntled at the nickname Harry had come up with for their father.

"Al," Harry hissed, tugging the incubus's sleeve so they were on the same level, "I would _really _appreciate it if you shut your trap." After releasing his friend, Harry turned back towards his mates, face the picture of innocence. Sam chuckled quietly, having overheard.

"Please, ignore Alouran," Harry suggested. "He's _insane_—trust me, I know."

Alouran pouted, but much to Harry's relief chose to remain silent.

"Right," Dean drawled, eyeing them both with slight suspicion. "Why are you here, again?"

"Not that we're not happy to see you," Sam tacked on, smiling to lessen the sting of Dean's thoughtless question.

Harry, used to _both _of their attitudes, was able to let it slide. Unfortunately, that was not the case for his friend. Alouran's eyebrows rose and he opened his mouth before Harry could stop him. "Does he _need _a reason to see his soul mates?"

Once more, Alouran was the focus of the Winchester's attention and Harry resisted the urge to smack himself, or Alouran, in the face.

Dean's eyes narrowed at the casual way in which Alouran defended Harry. "I'm sorry, chuckles, but I don't think I was talking to you."

"Yeah?" Alouran shrugged. "Well, I answered."

"Sorry," Sam jumped in before Dean could give a biting retort, "but, who are you? Harry, who is this?"

"This is my friend," Harry admitted with palpable reluctance. "He's also my secretary."

"And an incubus!"

This time, Harry _did _bury his face in his palm, not wanting to see the reactions on Sam or Dean's face. Alouran _could _have tact, he really could, but it was just most days… well, _all_ days, it seemed, he chose not to use it. Today, Harry realized, would be one such day.

Dean's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "You're a _what_?"

"An incubus," Alouran repeated."You know, a being who feeds off sex?"

Dean was reaching inside his open trunk for a gun, but a hand on his arm and a slow shake of the head from his brother stopped him.

"Incubus aren't dangerous," Harry said, startling Dean who looked at him, face guilty. Harry's smile was grim as he stared at the short hunter, having seen him reaching for his gun. He couldn't say he was surprised, but he was a little hurt and disappointed that Dean felt threatened by him—or rather, Alouran. "They feed off sexual energy, yes, but most do so by making their target to have erotic dreams, not by forcing themselves on people in their sleep."

"Harry, we wouldn't—"

"I know," Harry said, interrupting Sam before he could apologize. "I also know Dean is just a suspicious git."

Dean sputtered and Alouran laughed. Sam cracked a small smile, but still seemed unsure.

Before the conversation could continue any further, however, a black truck turned into the motel parking lot, drawing the brother's attention. Harry, seeing them watching it, also turned toward the truck just as it parked. The door to the impressive piece of machinery opened, revealing the face of none other than Daddy Hunter himself.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Harry muttered, just low enough to reach Alouran's ears. The incubus's lips quirked upward into an amused smile, but he didn't take his eyes off the mature hunter.

John stepped out of his truck, his eyes zeroing in on where Harry and Alouran stood with his sons. His face was drawn into its usual gruff blankness, his eyes seeming to narrow upon realizing who—or rather, what—his sons were fraternizing with. In one hand he carried a styrofoam tray loaded with coffee, and his other hovered suspiciously close to his pocket, where a gun no doubt laid concealed.

"Dad!" Sam called, rushing to his father's aide. "Let me help you with that." He grabbed the tray from the man's hands and distributed the coffee before taking one for himself and looking around before throwing the empty tray over his shoulder. His father gave a brief smile of thanks before turning back toward the two outsiders.

"You," John growled, no sign of politeness evident. His eyes regarded Alouran before dismissing the taller man, his hostile gaze instead settling on Harry.

Harry inclined his head in silent acknowledgement and turned to his secretary. "Al, this is the famous Da—I mean, John Winchester. John, meet my secretary, Alouran."

"Hello," Alouran smiled, his eyes dancing in amusement as he extended his hand to shake. Harry rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting.

"He's an _incubus_," Dean drawled, eyes hard and unflinching as he stared at Alouran. John's eyes seemed to widen and he looked at Alouran in a new, though still unpleasant, light.

Again, Alouran's handshake was ignored but the incubus was unperturbed, growing used to the Winchester's suspiciousness. Harry was used to it as well, but that still didn't excuse them for being so _rude_.

John finished disemboweling Alouran with his eyes and once more turned his attention toward Harry. "What are you doing here?" he growled, hand still hovering over his gun. "You got what you wanted, so just leave me _and _my boys alone, you hear me?"

Harry's gaze swiveled to his newfound mates. He could see the indecision and hesitation to interfere in their eyes. One part of them seemed to want to defend Harry, even though they had already done their fair share of being hostile; then there was the hunter parted of them that seemed to _agree _with their father. Seeing that made Harry's heart sink to the bottom of his stomach.

If they were indeed going to make something of their tentative relationship, then the suspicion would have to _go_. He also couldn't always kowtow to their father like some easily intimidated teen—that would give the man the wrong idea.

"…I'll leave eventually, John, don't worry," Harry assured, restating the urge to sigh. "I just came here to have a little chat with your sons."

"Yeah?" John revealed his hidden gun, but didn't point or cock it. "I don't think that was part of our deal, letting you talk to my boys. Now, I won't ask again. _Leave_."

Alouran moved to step forward, but paused when Dean blocked his path, face blank. Sam hovered near his brother's shoulder, unsure of who's side he was supposed to be on. Harry understood family and their need to stick by their own, yet that did nothing to stop the sheer amount of disappointment filling him. He wondered if it would always be like this, all of them unable to truly accept and understand the other.

"Calm down," Harry groaned, speaking to everyone. He dragged Alouran back behind him and gave Dean an exasperated stare. Once those two were calmed, he turned to John. "Okay, first, I'm not afraid of you John, no matter _what _you say or do. Second, you couldn't kill me even if you tried. And finally, I think your 'boys' are old enough to decide for themselves if they want to talk to me or not _without_ your input."

John's sneered, his eyes flashing with rage. "Now you listen here you pintsized son of a bitch—"

"Dad!" Sam cried, turning to his father in outrage. "D-Don't… don't talk to Harry that way."

It was a pitiful demand at best, but Harry was appreciative of it all the same. He gave Sam his widest smile and turned back to John, brow cocked, as if _daring _him to once more try to threaten him.

"We're leaving in five minutes," John bit out, "and I'm going after the demon, whether you two or ready or not." With a final glare, the old hunter turned on his heels and trekked back to his truck before climbing inside, closing the door harder than necessary.

Alouran shook his head after him. "Wow, what an _asshole_!"

"Alouran!" Harry hissed, turning to his friend aghast. Dean looked ready to throttle the incubus, and Harry wanted to avoid that at all costs. "You leave too, Al."

"What? But I just—"

"Al! Go! Please."

"Fine," Alouran huffed, thrusting out his chin so his nose stuck in the air. "I know when I'm not wanted." He turned and marched off, but despite his offended words gave Harry a conspiring wink and obvious thumbs up over his shoulder.

Harry buried his face in his hands for the second time that day, a load groan escaping him, much to the amusement of his mates who watched on. "I'm sorry about him," he said, peering at them through his fringe, "Al _can _be a nice guy—you know, once you get past his annoyingness."

Sam shrugged and gave a light chuckle. "It's alright. Sorry about our dad. Sorry about Dean, too."

"What?" Dean squawked, looking indignant. "What did _I _do?"

"Beside's act like a total prat?" Harry sniffed. "Not much."

"He started it," Dean muttered, but he was already being ignored.

Harry coughed, changing the subject. "So, you're leaving…?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam said, turning to look at the bags loaded in their still open trunk. "Dad thinks he's got a lead on the demon."

"And now that we have the Colt," Dean continued, "we're gonna go smoke his ass."

Harry smiled, amused, until the entirety of the brother's words settled into his brain. "The demon… the one that killed your family, right?"

Dean and Sam stared at him, their faces grim. It was a face Harry had seen numerous of times, and had even worn himself. It was the face of one prepared for battle.

"Twenty long years," Dean said, laughing suddenly. "We've been hunting this son of a bitch all this time, and finally…" He trailed off, but he didn't need to finish his thought, both Harry and Sam understood. Harry had felt the same hopeful expectation mixed with dread during his confrontations with Voldemort.

The urge to just lean forward and pull Dean into a hug was sudden, but not unwelcome, and he _would _have had John not been watching them like the overprotective parent he was from his truck. Harry couldn't even grasp either of his mate's hands without their father noticing. It was rather uncomfortable, if he were to be truthful, having to _hide _from John as he was, but it was his mates decision, so he would respect it—even if he didn't like it.

"I wish I could hug you," Harry admitted, face flushing when he realized he had spoken aloud. Dean gaped and turned to look at their watching father before turning back, silent but with an odd look swimming in his eyes.

Sam chuckled nervously and shook his head. "When this is all over, maybe… maybe _then_…"

Harry smiled, but it was flat and empty. Even after that, it appeared that they had a lot of issues to work out. There was Daddy Hunter, their opposing views of the world, their unparalleled paranoia of all things dark and reluctance to _open up_ to him, and now it seemed hunting was another thing to be added to the list.

"I'd like that," Harry said anyway, his smile becoming more genuine at the sight of Sam's own.

John's truck gave a sudden honk, signifying that their five minutes were up. Harry grimaced, resenting the man for finding a method to get in his way, even from a distance.

"That's our cue," Dean said, closing his car's trunk and giving Harry a look the green-eyed man found hard to read.

Harry inclined his head, scuffing the ground with his shoes. "Guess so…"

"We'll call you," Sam promised. He flashed a glance at his brother, saw his hesitant expression, and amended with a roll of his eyes, "_I'll_ call you."

"You better," Harry muttered, a sudden emptiness appearing within him at the thought of them leaving. He had just found them, found a small touch of happiness and he had to let them go. Sure, they had already caused him an equal number of headaches, but still. They were his _soul mates_, and it would take time for them to connect and get to know one another.

Harry swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. "Good luck on your demon hunt."

Dean paused and gave him a tentative nod. "Thanks… Harry."

Said boy's eyes widened. It was the first time Dean had called him by name, instead of some insult or reference that went over his head. His resulting smile was brilliant. Dean returned it with a light one of his own before turning and getting in his Impala, the engine roaring to life.

"Don't die!" Harry called, just as they began backing out of the parking lot. Dean gave a salute through his open window before pulling off after their father who had left mere moments after his warning honk.

Harry watched them until he could no longer see them. Alouran had come to stand at his side and the young King didn't even flinch when the incubus placed a hand on his shoulder.

"They're gone," Harry muttered.

"You'll see them again, Harry," Alouran said, voice reassuring. "Don't worry!"

Despite his friends positive words, a weight like a block of ice settled in the pit of his gut. Something was happening, and Harry had a feeling that the Winchesters were in the dead center of it.

**o0o**

The demon had their father, or rather, _Meg _had their father. They had arrived in Salvation, Iowa after a long trip, and had decided to split up into two groups to make things easier. Only instead, it had come back to bite them in the ass, getting their dad kidnapped—because he wasn't dead, dammit—in the process. To make matters worse, the demon was still alive.

Now, they needed help.

They were driving down a random highway when Sam offered the timid suggestion.

"You know… we could always call Harry."

"What?" Dean frowned. "No."

"Why not?" Sam asked, sounding at the end of his rope. "I mean, Bobby? Yeah, he's a good hunter… but don't you think we could use the back up?"

"This is family business, Sammy."

"And Bobby's family?" Sam countered, shaking his head.

Dean growled. "More family than Harry, anyway."

Sam paused, burning a hole in the side of his brother's face, but still Dean drove on, his jaw twitching to show that he felt his brother's look. After several moments of silence, Dean sighed in frustration, turning to his brother. "_What_?" he snarled.

"…Harry's our soul mate, Dean," Sam said, voice soft. "I know that _scares_ you or whatever, but you feel it just as much as I do."

"Okay, first off, I'm not afraid of anything," Dean said, eyes staring hard at the road before him. "Next, what do we _really _know about this Harry kid besides how he can make us feel shit we don't want to? Last I checked, Sammy, we _killed _things like that, not cuddle up to it!" Dean's words escalated from a fierce tone until he was yelling, his anger and frustration spilling out and lashing at the first thing it could—which unfortunately, happened to be Sam.

"Harry's different, Dean," Sam muttered after a second's pause. He was shocked at his brother's outburst, but knew it was more of his insecurities mixing with what happened to their father that made him react that way. "I know you felt it, I _saw _you. You hadn't looked that way at anyone in… hell, _ever_. And Harry's not like those monsters, or dark creatures, or whatever he calls them. He's human—mostly, anyway. And he's powerful. We could use his help."

Dean deflated, all of the anger leaving him like a popped balloon. "Fine," he bit out, rubbing at his eyes. "You're right, now's not the time to be high and mighty. We need all the help we can get."

Sam smiled and took out his phone. After several beeping noises, he placed it to his ear and waited. "Hello? Harry?"

**o0o**

Harry had been going _crazy_ the past few days, and it was all he could do to keep himself busy, less he call up his soul mates and come off as some sort of hanger-on who couldn't survive for even a day without the person—or persons—he liked. So instead, he had worked with Luther and his coven, continuing the training of their powers and watching them grow in leaps and bounds.

A few members of the coven could now use the Lure, and it had been used to full effect once they realized they could. Also, they were finally beginning to make progress on their mind magic, and could at least blank a specific memory, although the scale was still very small.

When he wasn't spending time with the coven, he was with Alouran exploring the two they resided in, and when he wasn't doing _that_, he tried to focus his powers over the country to no effect. Whatever was going on in America—it was _still _going on, crushing Harry's hope that it would just resolve itself.

Harry had once more been in his hotel room, Alouran was out partying with the vampires and Harry lay on his bed, cell phone in hand. He was yet again debating whether or not to just cave in and use the muggle technology when suddenly, the phone rang.

Harry jumped and almost threw it across the room when it began its high-pitched chiming, but managed to restrain himself. He stared at the device, as if unable to believe it was _doing _something before holding it closer, peering at the screen. The name reflected on the screen made his heart lurch.

Sam Winchester.

Coughing to ease his sudden tension, Harry pressed the 'talk' button as Sam had taught him and held it to his ear. "Um… hello?"

"Hello?" came the almost hesitant response. It was without a doubt Sam's voice, and after not hearing it for what like _so long_, it filled him with relief. "Harry?"

"Sam!" Harry called, smiling so hard he was sure his face would split. "I'm glad you're okay! Is Dean there? Is he fine?"

Sam chuckled from the other end, soothing Harry's nerves. "Yeah, we're fine Harry, don't worry."

"Good," Harry sighed, settling himself more comfortably atop the bed. He laid on his back, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. Harry asked the questioning that had been worrying him ever since the brothers had left on their quest. "So… did you manage to kill the demon?"

Sam was silent for several moments, telling Harry that the answer wouldn't be something he was happy to hear. "No," Sam sighed, voice tight. "I—I couldn't kill him…"

Harry's heart ached for his mate. To come so far only for the one you were after to get away? It would fill anyone with a sense of regret and self-disgust. "Sam…" Harry trailed of, having only empty words of comfort the tall hunter wouldn't want to hear.

"That's not why I called."

"…Called just to chat?" Harry asked, trying and failing to keep the hope out of his voice.

"No," Sam said, crushing the brief spark of expectation Harry had felt. "Harry, I'm sorry, but… we need your help."

Harry sighed, trying to brush off his disappointment. "Oh? What do you need?"

"Our… our dad," Sam began, causing Harry to grimace. So far, the hunter was off to a bad start at requesting Harry's help_. _"He's been kidnapped…" That, however, knocked away what little reluctance Harry had managed to scrounger up. He didn't like John Winchester, and normally wouldn't want to help him, but this—this wasn't a normal case.

"What happened?" Harry asked, curious as to how someone as paranoid as John managed to be kidnapped.

"It was a demon."

Harry sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, knowing how bad that had to be for his mates. "_The_ demon?" he questioned. If they lost both their mother _and _father to the same demon, there was no telling the effects that would have on them.

"No," Sam assured him. "A different one."

"Alright," Harry said, sitting up on his bed. "I'll be there as soon as I can." Without waiting on a response, Harry hung up the phone and placed it in his pocket.

His mates needed help, and they had enough sense of mind to ask _him_ for it. So what if they hadn't called him up to say hi? This at least showed that they trusted him, even a little, and for now… that was enough for him.

**o0o**

"Hello?" Sam looked at his phone in confusion, making sure he hadn't hung up on accident. "Hello?" Sighing, he closed the phone and placed it in the glove compartment.

"What'd he say?" Dean asked, glancing over at his brother once the conversation ended.

Sam shrugged, his face scrunched up in consternation. "He said... he'd be here as soon as he could."

"What? What's that supposed to mean? He doesn't even know where we are or where we're going!"

"I…I don't know," Sam said, appearing just as lost as Dean felt.

"Well that's just great," Dean growled, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "If he didn't want to help us, he could have at least—"

Dean was interrupted when there was a sudden crack, like a fire cracker, causing he and Sam's hunter instincts to kick into gear. They both ducked, the car swerving into another lane.

"Holy shit!" Dean cried, turning the steering wheel in the opposite direction, just in time as they narrowly escaped colliding with an oncoming car.

"Nice driving."

The breaks let out a high pitched squeal as Dean stomped on the pedal, spinning the car so they landed out of harm's way off the freeway. He and Sam turned in shock toward the backseat, where the voice had come from.

Harry stared back at them, cheeky grin in place. "Sorry, I came as fast as I could."


	11. Knowing

_A/N: _Mk, I think I have a new beta. Thanks to everyone who volunteered!

Don't forget to leave a review as well telling me what you think.

**o0o**

Harry soaked up the two brother's gobsmacked expressions, laughing to himself as they just continued to stare. After he had gotten off the phone with Sam, he scribbled a hasty note to his friend telling him where he would be and then he concentrated. Unlike his children who felt hidden from him, he was able to locate Sam and Dean with little to no effort. With their location found, it had only been a simple matter of Apparating there. It seemed, however, that his landing still needed a _bit_ of work.

Dean was the first to break himself from his stupor, hand placed over his no-doubt pounding chest. "Okay, _never_ do that again."

Harry once again laughed, trying and failing to stop himself when Dean glared. "I'll try."

"How the hell did you do that anyway?" Dean groused. "You didn't know where we were, did you?"

"You're my soul mates," Harry explained simply. "I could just _feel_ where you were, and then I Apparated—or teleported, as you know it—to where you were. _Luckily_ I didn't get splinched into the upholstery. That would have been… messy."

Sam's raised an eyebrow in question but didn't ask Harry to elaborate. Dean just shook his head, eyes still a little wide from Harry's sudden appearance. "Whatever," the shorter hunter sighed, revving up the car and guiding it back onto the freeway.

"So," Harry called, "where are we headed?"

"Sioux Falls, South Dakota," Sam said, earning a blank look from Harry. "We're going to get help from a family friend named Bobby," he elaborated. "He should be able to help us come up with a plan to rescue dad."

Harry sighed. "Oh joy, more hunters. Is it too much to hope that he's one of the rare breed that are _tolerant_?"

"Yes." The deadpan response came from Dean, who became the latest victim of Harry's dry stare. Dean just shrugged, meeting Harry's eye in the rearview mirror. "You don't get into this business to spread _tolerance_ or peace on earth or some other fairytale bullshit."

"Sounds like a real joy," Harry muttered, settling himself more comfortably in the backseat.

Now that he had a chance to actually pay attention, he looked around the décor of the car in interest. Like the paintjob, the leather upholstery was done in black and there was just a _feel _to the car that screamed Dean. The smell of it wasn't as bad as Harry feared, either; it was a mix of both of Sam and Dean's scents, something Harry found rather comforting.

Silence descended inside the car, the only noise being the soft blasting of rock music from the radio and the sound of the car sailing over the road. Harry shifted in the backseat, becoming restless. He was never one for car rides, and the backseat of the Impala felt cramped.

"Stop fidgeting," Dean snapped.

Harry growled, but spread his legs out along the back seat, face settling into an almost mulish expression.

"This is what you guys do all day?" Harry asked after he grew tired of counting the number of whiskers on Dean's face. Sam was the one who turned to look at him, Dean's attention being focused on the road. "I mean, this is _boring_," Harry complained.

Being a wizard who had access to instant teleportation didn't have many downsides, but there was one—it left you impatient when it came to long rides.

"It's only been twenty minutes," Sam said, unsure if Harry was being serious or not. When he saw that yes, Harry was _indeed _serious, he sighed. "Okay, let's play a game."

"A game?" Harry drawled, a brow rising as if to say '_Do I _look_ the type for car games?_'

Sam chuckled at Harry's expression but pressed on regardless. "Yeah. Have you ever played _I Spy_?"

Dean groaned, turning to his brother with a look of disgust. "Come on Sammy, what are you, _seven_?"

"Alright then, Dean," Sam sniffed. "What game do _you _recommend we play?"

"How about the _Shut Up and Let Dean Drive _game?" When he received two unimpressed looks for his suggestion, Dean rolled his eyes. "I _really _don't think this is the time for games. Dad in peril? That ringing any bells?"

Harry appeared properly chastised by Dean's comment, letting his head rest against the closed window with a solid thunk. "I was just trying to brighten the mood," he muttered, closing his eyes.

Sam gave Dean a dim glare and turned to stare at Harry who appeared to have either knocked himself out by hitting the window or was simply resting his eyes. "Harry?" When he received no response, he once more turned back toward his brother. "Real smooth, Dean."

Dean didn't respond, the rest of the car trip passing in tense silence.

**o0o**

When they finally arrived at the aptly named 'Singer Auto Salvage Yard' the sun was high in the sky, heavy clouds rolling in that made Harry wonder if it would rain. The salvage yard was, as one would imagine, a junk yard with old dusty cars stretching as far as the eye could see. Bobby's house itself wasn't much better. It was quaint and small, but the paint was peeling and a shutter on one of the windows was crooked.

Harry stared around his surroundings, wondering what type of man would live in a place like this. His question was soon answered once they traveled up to the front door and knocked. The door opened a crack, revealing a scruffy looking man wearing a worn out baseball cap. The man eyed all three of them before opening the door all the way, his face neutral but with a hint of suspicion—a look Harry was coming to associate with _all_ hunters.

Dean gave a big smile and opened his arms as if for a hug. "Bobby!"

Bobby just gave him a flat stare, causing Dean to lower his arms awkwardly, smile slipping. "…Winchester." He looked around outside, as if searching for something else and not finding it. "Get in here."

The man turned on his heel to walk inside and Harry followed after the brothers, wary but having no choice. The inside of the house was no different than the outside—a mess. Books and various doodads littered every available surface, and runes and ancient symbols seemed to be drawn everywhere. Underneath all the junk, though, was what appeared to be a very loved and lived in house that contained an old-fashioned feel.

Bobby disappeared for a moment but quickly returned, carrying three shot glasses which he sat on a table and filled with an amber liquid. Once full, he pushed the shots toward the three newcomers, Dean and Sam downing theirs without preamble while Harry hesitated.

At Bobby's narrowed eyes, he explained, "Ah, I'm sorry but, I don't really drink…"

"Yeah? Well if you want to stay in this house you do."

Harry grimaced, but with no other choice took the glass and downed it in one gulp, his face only twisting further as it burned down his throat.

Bobby snorted. "Lightweight," he grumbled, taking the glasses to once more disappear into what Harry assumed to be the kitchen.

Once he was sure the man was gone, Harry turned toward the brothers who had watched the byplay with amusement. "I don't think I like him."

"Aw, don't be like that, Harry," Dean smiled, seeming to take great joy out of there being someone who managed to get under Harry's skin.

"Bobby's a good guy," Sam assured when Harry only glared in Dean's direction. "I know he may seem like a bit much, but give him a chance."

"Right," Harry sniffed, "like you guys gave Alouran a chance. Okay."

Dean frowned; Sam winced. "Harry—"

"No, I get it."

And he really did. He understood with perfect clarity what was going on—double standards. They wanted Harry to just accept _their _lot with open arms, but someone with even a hint of Darkness from Harry's company was to be hated and kept at arm's length. Hell, they still kept _him _at arm's length, even after he went out of his way to endear himself to them.

They were saved from an impending argument when Bobby walked back in, once more eyeing the three of them. "I know Sam and Dean, but who's the pipsqueak?"

Harry answered before the two had a chance. "I'm Harry Potter, a… friend of the Winchesters," he said, inclining his head out of courtesy. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Bobby Singer," said hunter introduced, appearing pleased by Harry's manners. "Likewise." He turned toward the brothers, his pleasant expression dropping. "So, where is your daddy at, boys? I still owe him a shotgun blast to the ass."

Harry snorted in laughter, brow lifting, but Dean answered the question before he could ask for the full story. Either way, Bobby earned himself a smidge of respect for his apparent dislike of John Winchester.

Once Dean was done explaining the situation, Bobby's eyes closed in thought.

"A demon, huh…? You boys have really stepped in it this time." Bobby stood and wandered over to his bookshelf, muttering to himself as he began to search for something.

Dean and Sam exchanged glances. "Bobby?" Dean called, his voice curious.

"Demonic possessions are rare," the grizzled hunter informed them, flipping through a book, "usually you hear of three, maybe four a year. Guess how many there have been this year? _Twenty-seven_."

"That's odd," Harry muttered, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Seeing he was under scrutiny, he explained, "It's just… well, if the average is so low, I'm guessing it's because of hunters, right?" At their slow nods, Harry continued, "Well, it's not exactly easy for a demon to crawl out of Hell. If it was, there would be _many _more roaming the earth, don't you think?"

Bobby's eyes were narrowed in thoughtful consideration, his book forgotten for the moment. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm not quite sure," Harry admitted. "I just know that _something _is going on in America. Something not good."

"And you think demons are a part of it?" Sam hedged.

Again, Harry shrugged, shaking his head. "I don't know, anything is possible at this point." He gave a sigh, his frustration evident. "I just need more information…"

"Found it," Bobby said suddenly, holding up a book and showing them what appeared to be a picture of a ritualistic circle of some kind.

Harry's eyes lit up at the sight of it. "A devil's trap."

"Got it in one," Bobby said. "I _knew _there was a reason I liked you."

"Okay, so, uh… what is that?" Dean asked, the question on Sam's face as well.

Bobby just stared, giving them a look that stated clearly what he thought of them. Harry watched on, his smile bordering on sadistic. He had changed his mind. He was starting to like Bobby Singer after all.

**o0o**

After explaining all about what devil's traps were and how they operated, they all broke off to different portions of the house. Sam took the book of Bobby's that explained devil's traps and was looking through it for anything else of use; Dean and Bobby were talking and drinking inside the kitchen; and Harry decided to browse Bobby's expansive library, wondering if he would come across any gems.

Bobby had a collection of books that Hermione would have killed to peruse. There were books on ancient blood magic, runes of all types, and other obscure things that piqued Harry's interest but weren't exactly what he was looking for. He was looking for a book on the Dark, but was so far having no luck.

He froze when he heard the sound of Bobby's dog barking and an unusual feeling prickled at the back of his mind. Putting down the book he was holding, Harry walked into the living room, just in time to see the front door blow open with a bang. A blonde-haired woman stood in the threshold, face twisted in a parody of a smile.

"Hello boys," she greeted, eyes locking on Dean and Sam who were standing off to a corner of the room with Bobby. "I'm not in a good mood at the moment, so let's just cut to the chase, alright? Give me the Colt—the _real _one."

"No can do," Dean snarled, removing a flask from his jacket which Harry now knew to contain holy water. He charged forward to attack her, but with an almost distracted flick of her hand she sent him sailing through the air to crash into a stack of books.

"Dean!" Sam cried but held his ground. Dean gave a low moan and shifted, too winded to do anything more.

Harry felt his magic loosening beyond his control, invisible tendrils of power licking at the air as he stared at the girl who would dare hurt one of _his. _She felt the surge of power and turned toward it, her eyes widening before a grin lightened her face.

"Well, well, what have we here? The fabled King…" She took a purposeful step forward and Harry took one step back. "You're a lot cuter than I originally imagined…" She teased, taking another step forward. Again, Harry took a step back.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, his magic itching to lash out and attack, but he held himself back, just barely.

"I'm Meg," she introduced, smiling. "But that's probably not what you meant, huh?" She blinked, her eyes becoming pitch black. "Does that answer your question?"

"Quite," Harry said, taking another step backward.

"Why are you running?" Meg asked, yet still she took another step nearer. "There's nothing to be afraid of. I won't hurt you… _much_."

Satisfied that he had her where he wanted her, Harry gave a biting grin. "Who said I was running?"

Meg tried to take another step forward but an invisible force stopped her. At her look of confusion, Harry let his eyes travel up toward the ceiling. Her eye's follow his, all amusement draining from her face as she took in the devil's trap drawn on the roof.

"Surprise," Harry called, voice mocking.

After that, it was a simple matter of getting Meg properly restrained inside the protective circle. In it, she was nothing more than a human girl, and she was no match for a pair of seasoned hunters. After making sure that not only could she not get out, other demons couldn't get _in, _the four gathered around her.

Her eyes flickered to each of them, dark smile on her face. "You know, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask."

"Good to know," Harry drawled.

Dean chose then to step forward, drawing the demon's attention. He got right to the point, his face harsh and voice serious. "Where's our father?"

She hummed, her eyes trailing over to Harry. "Who knows?" she asked, smiling. "Maybe he's dead. But what I _do _know is about our little piece of royalty here…"

All eyes turned toward Harry, but he ignored them, instead staring at the demon. He had nothing to hide, and if the demon thought that she could torture him more than he'd already tortured himself, then she had another thing coming. "Save it," Harry said, eyes narrowing. "I won't fall for your little mind games."

"Bigger men than you have tried, baby," she purred, her grin only widening at Harry's glare of disgust.

Dean jumped in, his own anger and revulsion shining out through his voice. "Listen to me when I'm talking to you, bitch," he snarled. "Where's our father?"

That drew her attention. She turned to him, eyes widened in mock surprise. "Jeez, you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Then, her eyes hooded and she smiled, voice low and intending to spite. "Oh, that's right, you don't…"

Harry stepped in front of Dean when it looked as if he would attack her in his anger. He gave the man a stern shake of his head and turned back toward the demon.

"I didn't know he had you on such a short leash already," Meg said. "I have to say, I—"

"Shut it," Harry demanded, and amazingly, Meg did, her face twisting in consternation. The young King locked gazes with the demon, making sure she couldn't look away. "You will tell us the truth," he said, "and you will refrain from being a bitch while doing so."

Meg growled, eyes glazing over as she tried to fight the effects of Harry's compulsion spell. He could always read her mind, but the mental landscape of a demon was a twisted labyrinth of pain and depravity he didn't want to get lost in, lest he drive _himself _mad in the process.

"N-No," Meg managed to bite out, shaking as her will battled against his own. "If you want me to speak, you'll have to _torture _it out of me."

"That can be arranged," he promised, turning to where Sam and Bobby watched on. Harry gave them a nod and received a nod back, the two hunters walking over to stand behind him.

"What are you doing?" Dean all but snarled, upset that _he _wasn't the one behind the wheel.

"Meg is a _demon_, Dean," Harry sighed, shaking his head. "You heard her; we'll have to torture her, and what greater torture is there than being forcibly sent back to hell?"

Dean's eyes lightened in understanding and he nodded. Sam drew in a steadying breath and revealed a worn-out journal.

Meg raised a sardonic brow when Sam opened the journal and began flipping through the pages. "You guys are going to bore me to death with your _diaries_?"

"Something like that," Harry and Dean said at the same time, exchanging disgruntled looks after doing so.

Sam found the page and with a final nod, began reading, hesitant and chopped Latin pouring from his lips. Harry winced at some of the pronunciations, but the exorcism seemed to be fulfilling its intended purpose.

Meg gave a sudden jerk, her eyes widening. "An exorcism? You have _got _to be kidding me…"

From there, they delved into a sort of pattern. Sam would read, Meg would be in pain, Sam would stop, and then Dean would insult her. It repeated over and over until it appeared Meg would let herself be exorcised, the chair she was strapped to skidding across the floor with a mind of its own as she screamed in pain.

"He will be!" Meg yelled at last, making Sam pause and look up from his reading.

Dean was in front of the panting demon in a flash, showing no concern for her weakened state. "What did you say?"

Meg gave a weary sigh, her body still shaking from the aftershocks of pain the ritual brought upon her. "He's not dead," she admitted, panting. "But he _will_ be after what we do to him."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Dean demanded.

She lifted her head and gave him a dry stare. "You don't."

"Sam!"

"A building!" Meg screamed, glaring at them in tired acceptance. "Okay? A building in Jefferson City."

"Missouri?" Dean asked, looking like a ravenous dog as he snarled. "Come on! An address!"

"I don't know!"

Sam frowned from where he stood. "And the demon," he began, sharing a quick look with his brother, "the one we're looking for, where is it?"

"I don't know, I swear!" She turned pleading eyes unto Dean, but the man's eyes showed only revulsion and hatred. "That's everything. That's all I know. "

Dean turned away from the demon, his lip pulled back into a sneer. "Finish it."

Meg reared back in shock, struggling futilely against her binds. "What? I told you the truth!"

"Not so fast," Harry said, having been quiet while he let the Winchester's perform their interrogation. "She knows more," he added, causing everyone to look at him in shock, "unfortunately, that's all she'll tell us—about John Winchester and the demon's location, at least."

Sam gave Harry a considering look, one that declared Harry a puzzle he intended to one day solve, no matter how long it took. "What do you mean?"

Harry's lips quirked up into a humorless smile as he stared at the demon, her expression resigned and guarded. "I think she may be able to shed some light on some of the things _I _want to know. Isn't that right, Meg?"

She remained silent, neither confirming nor denying what he accused.

"Where'd your cheek disappear to?" Harry wondered aloud, staring down his nose at the demon who could only stare up at him, hopeless to refuse now that she was so worn down. "You knew that I was the King. Tell me, what do you know of me?"

"Nothing," she snarled. However, at Harry's deadpan stare, she added, "Besides what Father tells me…"

"Father?" Harry hissed, stiffening in alarm. "Do you mean Lucifer?"

The Winchester's and Bobby grew still as well, their eyes turning toward the restrained demon.

"What?" Meg scoffed, recovered enough from her ordeal to once more stare at them in hatred. "No, that's daddy. But… I'm sure you know all about that, don't you?"

"I suppose I do," Harry allowed, shrugging. "So, who is 'Father'?"

Meg's lip curled into a smile and her eyes drifted over to Sam and Dean. Harry followed her gaze, his own eyes narrowing as more pieces were added to the ever growing puzzle.

"The demon they're hunting," Harry said, answering the unspoken question on the brother's faces. Meg tilted her head, an amused light appearing in her eyes. "What does he want? What is he doing in America?"

"I like you," Meg admitted, making Harry's eyes narrow further, "so I'll tell you something—just so it'll screw with your head." She leaned forward, her once more black eyes shining in demented glee. "He's _experimenting_, finding the perfect method to create children…"

Harry grimaced, not liking the sound of that. "Children? What type of children?"

She reared back, grin so large Harry wondered how she even managed it. "Now isn't _that _just the million dollar question?"

"Tell me," Harry demanded, his magic leaking out of his body to saturate the air with his negative feelings. Dean and Sam seemed unbothered, but Bobby was looking around the room for the source of the oppressive feeling in the room, eyes widening when he realized it came from _Harry_. Meg, on the other hand seemed at peace, eyes still black and taunting him by refusing to give him the answers he so desperately sought.

"No," Meg denied, turning to examine a distant wall.

Harry growled. He knew he would not get any further answers—not without resulting to methods he'd rather his mates not see him use. Instead, he turned to Sam, his glare still in place and magic swirling across the room, kicking up a light wind. "Do it, Sam," he snarled, turning and walking out of the house without staying behind to see her exorcised.

**o0o**

Harry was outside, sitting on one of the many abandoned vehicles Bobby had around his property. His thoughts were a jumbled mess and his emotions were no better. He had allowed Meg to get underneath his skin, and his magic had reacted accordingly. She had the one thing he needed most, information, and her tactic to give him just enough to drive him crazy worked as she intended.

What did a demon creating 'children' have to do with the situation in America? Were they somehow blocking his power or doing something to America itself that hampered his abilities as a result? Hell, did what he know now have _anything _to do with him? Had Meg simply told him something unrelated, knowing that he would take any bone he could and hold on to it for dear life?

Harry didn't know, and it was the _not knowing _that hurt him the most. As it was now, unless he was in the area, he was powerless to stop anything. He was revered as a god, but most days, he felt anything _but_. He was a more powerful than average wizard with a large responsibility—that wasn't enough to qualify one as a god, was it?

But Harry knew—because Daekin had known—that he was capable of so much _more_. If only he was able to control his powers. If only he had _more _power. If only, if only.

Harry snorted. Wishful thinking wouldn't solve anything; only action would.

The sad thing was, however, he didn't know which _action _to take. He felt lost, and for once, wanted someone to just _tell him _what he was supposed to do!

His attention snapped toward Bobby's house when he heard the door closing. Sam walked out of the house and looked around before spotting Harry. In no time at all, the tall hunter had closed the distance between them.

"Hey," Sam said, taking a seat to the left of Harry on the beat down car.

Harry sighed, not even the immediate presence of his soul mate managing to cheer him up. "Hello."

Sam looked at him from the corner of his eye, his foot propped up on the car's bumper and his arm resting across his knee. "You look upset," he noted.

Harry didn't respond, just gave another sigh and turned his stare off into the distance.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, turning to regard him fully.

"What do you care?" Harry questioned.

Being physically eighteen meant that you still had the _hormones_ of a teenager, and thus, Harry was prone to random bouts of angst. His secretary was usually there to draw him out of his shell, but the incubus was in another state entirely.

Sam shrugged, appearing at a lost on how he was supposed to handle this newfound situation. "I don't know," Sam admitted, causing Harry's shoulders to slump even further. "But I _do _care. Was it something Meg said?"

"In a way," Harry allowed, shaking his head. "It's not what she _said, _it's what she _didn't _say. I just… hate being left in the dark."

"…You hate being left in the _dark_?" Sam repeated, an amused lift to his voice.

Harry chuckled. "Okay, poor choice of words. What I meant was, I just don't like it when I don't _know_ everything. My headmaster, he—" Harry trailed off, shooting Sam a look out of the corner of his eye.

Sam waited for him to continue, but when it became obvious that he wouldn't, questioned, "What about him?"

"Nothing," Harry said, avoiding the tall hunter's gaze. "It's not important."

"Harry," Sam sighed, lifting a hand as if to touch him before thinking better of it, letting it drop back into his lap. "I know me and Dean haven't exactly been _open _with you, but… What I mean to say is—"

"Sam… just, drop it," Harry said when he could no longer take the fumbled excuses Sam seemed to be giving him. "I don't expect you to just suddenly love me, Sam—hell; I don't even expect you to _like_ me, especially when I remember that you and your brother were raised as hunters. I've seen John—he could have done _so _much worse.

"This soul mate thing?" Harry continued, placing a hand over his heart. "It's new to me too, Sam, but I've dealt with something of this nature before. I know you might think it's 'unnatural' to feel things for me—but it's _not_. Those things you feel? You feel them _because _you know me, because our souls… they know _each other_."

Harry was staring into Sam's own green, almost brown, eyes, trying to communicate through his own eyes that he was telling the truth. Finally, Sam lowered his gaze, his hands clenching info fists.

"I get that," Sam admitted, not looking up. "I _get _that we're soul mates and my heart knows it too—but my head… it just…"

"I know," Harry sighed. "That's why I wait. I don't want to force you into anything with me..."

After a seconds hesitation, Sam looked up, determination shining behind his eyes. Harry raised a brow, wondering what he was about to do. After several tense moments of just staring, Sam finally moved. With a hesitant hand, he reached down and took Harry's hand into his much larger one.

The touch sent an all too familiar spark through Harry's body, his eyes dropping to the sight of his hand in Sam's. "Sam?" he questioned, once more looking into earnest orbs that made his heart flutter in his chest.

"Our… our relationship… it's a two way street," Sam said, voice low. "My heart and soul, they already know that you're… that you're mine. Now - now I just have to convince my head of it too. Once it learns what the rest of me already knows, then…"

Harry's eyes closed as warmth from Sam's words washed over him. That had been all he'd wanted—a _chance_. They seemed to tolerate and maybe even trust him on some level, but they never treated him as anything more than a casual acquaintance, an outsider who was not allowed to know of anything past the image they portrayed to the world.

What they didn't seem to realize, however, was that he'd already _seen _past that. He'd seen their very souls and had gazed upon every bruise and blemish. Even with all the scars their souls bore, to Harry, they were still the most beautiful things he had ever gazed upon.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, having no other words to describe the torrent of emotion that flooded inside him.

Sam gave his hand a gentle squeeze, seeming to understand the things that had been left unspoken. When Sam retracted his hand, Harry opened his eyes and they shared tentative smiles. The air was still a bit awkward, but at least things were a little clearer.

"So," Harry coughed after the moment passed, "how's Meg? Or rather, the girl Meg rode around in?"

Sam's smile fell away, his eyes growing solemn. "She… she died."

"What?" Harry asked, eyes widening. "How? You guys did the exorcism, right?"

"Yeah, I did…" Sam's gaze drifting down to his lap. "But, her body…" He shook his head.

Harry cursed and banged a clenched fist against the side of the car, a hollow bang ringing out. "Dammit! I shouldn't have left!"

"Harry, it's not your fault," Sam assured him, turning to look at him in shock. "Her body was _broken_; there was nothing you could do. There was nothing _anyone _could do."

"No," Harry denied, staring into Sam's eyes. "I could have at least _tried_. Maybe held her together until someone else—"

"Harry!" Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to remain staring into his eyes. "Listen to me. What happened isn't your fault. Even if you _could _have healed her, you didn't know."

Harry sniffed, tears gathering in his haunted green eyes. "Sorry," he choked, hands still clenched into fists and shaking. "Sorry."

Sam wavered for only a moment before he pulled his mate into a hug, the smaller man's body molding easily into his own. Harry released another soft cry and buried his face into Sam's chest, shoulders shaking as he was wracked by silent sobs.

Sam cradled him gently, running his hands through the man's untidy hair, all the while marveling at how easy… how _natural_ it felt to hold Harry in his arms.

Soon, Harry's sobbing ceased and he pulled back, eyes puffy and face blotched. He was still one of the most beautiful men Sam had ever seen.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized, eyes lowered in embarrassment.

"It's okay," Sam assured him, reluctant to let him go but having no choice now that he didn't have an excuse to hold him so close.

Harry shook his head, still sniffling. "No, it's not. It's weak and pathetic."

"Harry—"

"I can't help it," he continued, staring at his lap. "Someone dying when I could have—_should _have been there to stop it… I just…"

When Harry once more began his trembling, Sam again pulled the man into arms, stopping the sobs before they could begin.

"_Don't _apologize," Sam murmured when Harry opened his mouth to do just that. Instead, he gave a tired sigh and laid his head in the groove of Sam's neck. Sam had his arm around Harry's waist, gently messaging the area with his thumb through Harry's clothes.

After several long moments, when he was sure Harry had managed to calm himself down, Sam looked down at the man pressed against him. "Feeling better?"

Harry peeked at him before ducking his head, a flush creeping across his nose. He gave a nod, not trusting his voice.

Sam gave a quiet chuckle and squeezed Harry against him, feeling perfectly content.

It was all ruined when Dean busted through the front door, calling for his brother. "Sam? Sammy? Hey, where a—" He trailed off when he saw where his little brother was and who he happened to be snuggled up against.

A slight sting appeared in his heart but he brushed it off, instead walking toward where the two still hadn't moved apart from one another. Sam was giving his brother an exasperated look while Harry's stare was blank and wary.

"Getting chummy without me?" he asked, taking in the sight of Sam rolling his eyes before turning his attention toward Harry. Dean's gaze narrowed when he noticed the puffiness of Harry's eyes and the redness under them. "Have you been _crying_?"

Sam held Harry more protectively against himself, the smaller man having stiffened noticeably.

"I'm fine," Harry sighed, disentangling himself from his brother's side and standing.

Dean was far from convinced, but he didn't feel like dealing with anyone else's problems, not when he had so many of his own. He turned toward his brother. "Come on Sammy, time to go."

Sam sighed but hopped off the car and followed him toward the Impala. What he hadn't expected, however, was a third set of footsteps to join them. Hand still on the door handle to his car, Dean stared at Harry over it.

"Where do you think you're going, short stuff?"

Harry gave him a dry stare but didn't comment on the nickname. "With you two. Where else?"

"No you're not," Dean said with a shake of his head. "You're staying here. With Bobby."

Sam gave his brother a hesitant look but remained silent, his gaze swiveling toward a fuming Harry.

"You called me here—"

"Correction, _Sam _called you here."

"You need my help," Harry growled, his eyes narrowing into slits.

Dean's eyebrows raised and he met Harry's dark glare without flinching. "Listen, this is _family _business. Bobby's more family than you are, but do you see him tagging along? No. So be a _good _little—"

He didn't get a chance to finish speaking as he was suddenly lifted off the ground by his feet, a shocked cry leaving his throat.

"Dean!" Sam cried, seeing his brother levitated into the air and held upside down by one leg, as if something had grabbed and lifted him. His shocked gaze swiveled over to Harry and the man's eyes were narrowed, as if he were concentrating. "Harry," he called, voice hesitant, "let him go."

Harry gave him a brief glance before blinking, his hold on Dean releasing. The shorter hunter gave a short scream before he collided to the ground with a solid thump, a groan of pain escaping.

"Thanks," Sam said dryly. He ran over to where Dean was still on the ground, whimpering in pain. "Dean! You okay?"

"My ass," Dean groaned, eyes closed as he placed a tentative hand on said area. "I think I broke my ass…"

Sam snorted, unable to help a muffled chuckle. "Yeah, I think you'll be okay," he said, helping his brother to his feet and patting any dust off his jacket.

Dean was hunched over, one hand on his lower back as he sent a weak glare at Harry. "What the hell was that for?"

"Honestly?" Harry asked, receiving a hesitant nod in response. "You were annoying me."

Both brothers gaped, but it was Dean who exploded, "You may have broken my _ass_!"

Harry sighed and removed his wand from his holster. Dean gave a sudden cry of alarm and tried to hide behind Sam, but with his buttocks as it was, he didn't get far. The spell hit him dead in the back, but instead of more pain like he had expected, a cooling sensation spread throughput his body, the dull ache of his bottom all but disappearing.

"You… you healed me," Dean said, relieving his brother's fears on what Harry had done. They both turned to him, staring as if seeing him for the first time.

"I did," Harry confirmed. "I'm not _useless_, and I won't just… just sit idly by while you two go get yourselves _killed_."

Dean's look of awe was soon replaced by displeasure. "Alright… fine, you can come."

Harry's resulting smile was as if a switch had been flicked, the hard-eyed wizard being replaced by the bright-eyed boy Dean had felt a need to protect from everything—demons and himself included. But, he realized… Harry didn't need protecting, not really. _He _may have needed protecting from _Harry_.

He watched Harry climb into the back seat and shared a look over the car with his brother. Sam gave him a grin and shrug before ducking into the passenger's seat. Dean sighed, shaking his head.

Normally such stubbornness would annoy him, but he saw a little of himself in Harry. Dean hated to admit it, but he was gaining a grudging respect for the man.

He got into the driver's seat and cranked the car. After a quick glance back at Harry they were off.


	12. What We Are

_A/N: _Okay, I don't want to spoil Supernatural's season 5 finale, so I'll just say this. That little bit that happened with a certain someone 'vanishing' and putting ideas in our head? Ignore it. That will sooo not be the case in my story.

Now that _that's_ out of the way, lets move on. I found a beta for my story, and thanks again to all the people who offered! I really appreciated all the support, but unfortunately I could only choose one person. As such, this chapter is beta'd by **StarAngel Caelum SunSoar**. So kudos to them for being so fast, awesome and efficient!

Hm, what else is there to say... Eh, not much except I hope you enjoy this chapter and I would really love it if you hit that review button afterward!

**o0o**

"So, I guess we're headed to Missouri?" Harry asked, trying to keep the dismay he felt at having to drive to another location out of his voice. After his little stunt with Dean to get the man to agree to take him, they probably wouldn't put up with _any _complaints.

Sam looked at him over his shoulder, snorting when he noticed that Harry was once again lounging as if he were in a recliner. "Yeah, Jefferson City. Shouldn't take us more than a couple of hours to get there."

"Oh," Harry sighed, slumping. Dean looked back at him through the rearview mirror and Harry sat up, schooling his face into a smile. "Oh-oh boy!"

Dean, of course, wasn't fooled by Harry's show of false excitement. "How do they get around in whatever part of Europe you're from?"

Harry shrugged, turning to gaze at the scenery as it sped by. "For muggles? Cars."

"Muggles?" Sam echoed, frowning in confusion.

"Oh, that's what people with magic call normal people."

A smarmy response was on Dean's lip, but a look from his brother preempted that.

Harry continued on, having missed the byplay. "Anyway, for people _with _magic, we got around a lot of ways! There are trains, buses—"

"Wait," Dean said, shaking his head. "That all sounds _normal_."

"The train was," Harry agreed. "Well, besides the fact that you had to go through an invisible portal located in a brick wall to find it."

Sam and Dean gaped. Harry nodded, remembering his _own _reaction when he discovered platform nine and three-quarters. "Now the night bus… it's _far _from normal. I've only rode it a few times, but…" Harry stopped, shaking his head as he was unable to find the words needed to describe the experience. "It was like a muggle rollercoaster," he settled on, "but much more life threatening."

There was several beats of silence before Dean breathed, "Wow… With transportation like that, I'd probably find driving boring too." Immediately after speaking, he began rubbing the dashboard, making odd cooing sounds. "Not that I'd ever want to give up my baby."

Harry watched Dean interact with his car, trying and failing to hold in his chortles. Sam was smiling as well, but his face had a look of exasperation that showed this wasn't the first time Dean got a little… intimate, with his car.

"Those are the tame methods of transportation," Harry said once Dean had stopped fondling his car. Sam and Dean sat facing forward, but they were listening in rapt attention as Harry spoke. "The quickest and easiest is probably what I did to find you guys—Apparation. It basically allows you to travel anywhere you've seen before, but I was able to Apparate to where I _sensed _you, which I guess is an exception to that rule…"

Harry went on to explain the other methods of wizarding travel, including his personal favorite, by _broom_. The brothers were, of course, gobsmacked to find that particular bit of lore true, but when Harry regaled them of his exploits on a broom, Dean compared it to muggle motorbikes. When Harry said they had _flying _versions of those, it seemed as if Dean's brain actually shut down.

After that, Harry managed to get the boys to tell him about some of their hunts—or rather, the ones that had nothing at all to do with his children. The less he knew about that, the better, he figured.

However, there was _one _story that Harry just couldn't wrap his mind around.

"A racist truck?" he asked, trying to appear serious and failing. He took one look at their faces and burst into laughter, slapping his knee and hooting at their looks of disgruntlement. "I-I mean really," Harry said through his giggles, "h-how, how does that even—" He couldn't even finish his thought, once more breaking into cackling as he thought of them battling a _racist truck_! When he tried to imagine it, all he could think of was Lucius Malfoy's face on the front of a beat up pickup truck.

Unfortunately, Sam and Dean weren't too appreciative of him laughing at their near death experience and they refused to tell him anymore of their exploits.

The rest of car trip continued in silence, broken occasionally by Harry giggling and muttering, "Pfft! Racist trucks…"

**o0o**

At last, the Winchesters and Harry arrived at Jefferson City. Harry was pressed against the window, taking in all the muggles walking the streets and the sights of the tall buildings. He had seen his fair share of impressive buildings, but the things muggles were capable of creating without magic always managed to awe him.

They drove through the city looking for the 'Sunrise' Meg had told them about and after finding nothing, they parked by a large river which Sam told him was referred to as the 'Missouri River'. The river was large and majestic, the sunlight reflecting off it like a shimmering sheet of diamonds. Gnarly trees grew all around the river, and the parts not blocked off by nature were barred by iron chain fences.

Harry was as close to the river as he was allowed, staring into its depths while Sam and Dean were hovering near the car, seeming to discuss something in the book Sam had brought with him from Bobby's.

Once he grew tired of the river—which wasn't a hard thing to do—he walked back toward the brother's, overhearing the tail end of their conversation as their voices began to rise.

"Speaking of what _Dad_ wants," Dean was saying, doing his fierce dog growl that he did so well, "what do you think he'd say if he knew you were getting so close to our little man-witch?"

Harry paused. He wasn't in their blind spot, and if they looked up for even a second they would spot him, but still he stood there wondering how Sam would respond.

Sam sighed, not wanting to jump into another argument so soon. "That's _different_."

"How so?" Dean asked, face crumbling in mock confusion. "It seems like you only want to listen to dear old Dad when it's beneficial to _you_."

"I won't let Dad run my life," Sam said, frowning hard.

"And _that's _why you're selfish," Dean snarled, taking a step backward and shaking his head. "You don't give a rat's _ass _what Dad wants, Sammy; it's all about what _you _want."

Sam growled. "You're wrong."

"Name _one _time," Dean challenged, "just _one _where you did something Dad told you to that you didn't want to."

"How about this _whole damn thing_?" Sam exploded, throwing his hands into the air, as if the answer lay in the very space around them. "It was _Dad _who made me into a hunter, Dean! You know what I wanted to be when I was twelve? A dentist. A _fucking dentist_!"

The two brothers stared at each other for several tense moments, Sam breathing hard from the force of his tirade while Dean's face remained blank. It was at that moment that Sam looked over, noticing a gaping Harry for the first time. Dean followed his gaze and his anger fled him, leaving him with just a bone deep weariness.

"Harry," Sam sighed, scratching at the back of neck in consternation, "how long… how long have you been standing there?"

Harry shuffled in guilt for having been caught eavesdropping, but he had _never _thought that there would be trouble in Winchester paradise. Whenever he looked at the two brothers, all he could sense was their unyielding love and devotion for the other—to see them arguing as they were… it was almost like a slap to the face.

"Long enough," Harry muttered, peeking at them through his bangs.

Sam looked afraid of that and grimaced, turning away and not meeting anyone's gaze. Dean appeared resigned, his eyes dim.

Harry knew it wasn't his place, but still he questioned, "W-What happened?"

"Nothing," Dean said, rubbing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath. "Come on, we've got evil asses to kick."

With that, he turned and walked away. Harry gave Sam an uncertain glance before hurrying after Dean, the tall hunter trailing behind them at an almost snail's pace.

"Really, what was that?" Harry tried again once he caught up to Dean, looking behind him at Sam as they walked. "I thought you guys were like… inseparable."

Dean snorted and shook his head. "I wish." He sighed and looked up to the sky. "I love the kid, but… Sammy can be a little _bitch_."

Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline and he turned to Dean in shock. He wasn't surprised by the language, but he _was _thrown for a loop at said language being directed at Sammy. He must have _really _overestimated how well the Winchesters got along. This… it was almost frightening.

At Harry's look, Dean cracked a small smile. "Don't look like your puppy just died. Families fight—hell, it's what we do best."

Harry bit his lip and gave a hesitant nod of acceptance. He had next to no experience with families; his own had treated him like trash and the only thing he had to go on were the families he observed. The Weasleys had always been his idea of the perfect family, but with a few less kids. He knew Ron used to always complain about the pranks his brother pulled, yet he had never seen them have a row so severe it looked as if it would dissolve into physical blows.

Once more, Harry looked over his shoulder at the still sullen younger Winchester. "Will Sam be alright?"

"He'll bounce back," Dean decided, shoulders set and staring ahead. "He'll sulk for a while, apologize, and then try to get all kumbaya around the campfire."

"If you say so," Harry sighed, trailing behind until he stood beside Sam, finding it easy to keep up with the man's slow strides.

He looked up at him, but Sam's face was hard to read. His expression was sour and his neck hunched, but other than that he appeared to have calmed down since his argument with Dean.

"You okay?" Harry asked.

Sam made no reaction other than a bland shrug of his shoulders.

Despite that, Harry didn't give up. "Do you guys argue a lot?"

Sam snorted. "Understatement of the century."

Again, Harry just found himself _unable _to wrap his mind around it. He had thought they were the perfect set of brothers, and to find out how wrong he had been…

"You wouldn't know it from looking at you," Harry admitted and Sam looked down at him, face drawn in confusion. Harry shrugged a single shoulder. "I mean, not to be cheesy or anything… but I was kind of jealous by how close you two seem. I've never really had a family, so to see the close bond you two had, it—I don't know…"

"I wish things were so perfect," Sam sighed, standing up straighter and staring at the back of his brother's head. "Dean _can _be a good guy; it's just that sometimes…"

"You want to hex him into next century?" Harry finished, making Sam chuckle and shake his head.

"Yeah, something like that," he agreed, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket. Sighing, Sam once more looked at Dean. "…Maybe I should go apologize."

Harry gave him a hard look out of the corner of his eye, but didn't comment as Sam jogged forward and caught up to Dean, the two of them bumping shoulders playfully as they walked. In no time it all it seemed as if all had been forgiven, Sam throwing back his head and laughing at something Dean said, the shorter hunter having a smile on his face as he watched his brother laugh.

Harry just stared, mystified. They had been arguing one moment, at each other's throats, and now they were once again buddy-buddy? He was more confused than ever.

Dean looked over his shoulder and saw how far back Harry had fallen. "Move your ass, short stuff!"

That broke him from his stupor and he ran to catch up with the brothers.

**o0o**

"I think I know what Meg meant by 'Sunrise'," Dean commented, voice dry as the three of them stared at an apartment complex named "Sunrise Apartments" from behind their hiding place which consisted of a group of trees.

The building was tall and comprised of dusty bricks; muggles milled about the place.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled, watching the mass of people that passed by. "If there are demons here, they can possess anyone in the building…"

Sam shook his head, forehead creased in worry. "Yeah, we won't be able to tell innocents from demons..."

"Which means we won't be able to go ape shit like usual… Crap, this sucks!"

Harry chose that moment to make himself known, coughing. Sam and Dean turned to him, staring as if they had forgotten for a moment that he was even there. "I think I can help with that," Harry said, nodding toward the apartment. "It's faint, but I can tell a demon apart from a human."

"Okay, so we'll know who we have to gank," Dean allowed, "but how the hell do we get inside?"

Again, Harry cleared his throat, raising his hand. "Uh, wizard? I can make us invisible and we can just _walk _inside."

Dean stared at him, deadpan. "Yeah, well… where's the fun in that?"

"What about the civilians?" Sam asked. "They may get caught in the crossfire."

The brother's turned toward him, but Harry just stared back, face blank. "Hey, I can't have _all _the solutions."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Of course you can't." He turned back toward his brother. "Alright Sam, any ideas in that big brain of yours?"

The two of them began wracking their brain for solutions. Then, at the same time, they looked up and declared, "Fire alarm."

After that, things were simple. Dean complained about the uncomfortable feeling of the disillusionment charm being placed over him and freaked out a few more muggles than needed, but they walked easily through the front doors of the building and pulled the alarm. The shrill alarm rang out, causing the people in the building to hurriedly escape and find out what was going on.

Once they were sure the majority of the non-possessed humans had left, they began the meticulous task of doing a sweep of every floor, making sure that they left no room unchecked.

However, one room gave a clear reading. Harry could sense demonic presences along the entire hallway, but Dean's EMF chirped a steady beat outside one door in particular. Since they were all under the disillusionment, Harry had no choice but to speak in his effort to communicate with them, hoping the demons inside the door couldn't overhear.

"Okay, I'll unlock the door and bust it open. I'll distract them, and then you two find a way to restrain them, alright?"

He received two quiet affirmatives in reply and nodded, even if it couldn't be seen. Then, he turned back toward the door and whispered a quiet Alohomora. The sound of the door unlocking was loud in the quiet hallway, making Harry wince. No doubt the demons had heard him. Not wasting any time, Harry rushed through the door and spotted two demons standing from where they had been sitting and turning toward the door.

He pointed his wand toward the demons and shouted, "Pius Aguamenti!"

A jet of water spewed forth from Harry's wand and splashed onto the demons, making them cry out in pain as it physically burned them. Dean and Sam wasted no time in taking advantage of the demon's weakened state, pushing them into a closet and sealing the door with a line of salt.

Once the demons were restrained, Harry canceled the disillusionment charms on them and they rushed into the bedroom, where John Winchester lay restrained by ropes to the bed. Dean gave a cry and ran to his father, checking him for a pulse and appearing relieved when he found one. He removed his familiar silver knife and was about to cut the bonds when Sam stopped him.

"Wait… He could be possessed," Sam said, turning toward Harry.

Harry had felt the demonic presence in John the moment they entered the room, and it was much different from the other demon's he'd felt. It was darker… more _powerful_. Whoever or whatever they were, they were much stronger and much higher up on the chain than Meg was.

Instead of answering, Harry took a step nearer to John, watching the man for any signs of movement.

"Harry?" Dean asked, looking at him in confusion.

"Grab my shoulders," Harry demanded once he stood opposite Dean next to John. The two brothers stared at him, uncomprehending. "_Now_," Harry snapped.

Although confused, they did as he asked and each stood behind him, their hands placed on his shoulders. After making sure they each had a good grip, Harry reached forward to grip John as well.

He was stopped when the man's eyes snapped open, glowing yellow eyes staring straight at him. Before Harry could even open his mouth, the three of them were blown backwards, Sam and Dean slammed into the wall while Harry was merely knocked off his feet. The brothers were pinned against the wall, grunting in pain as they were restrained by an invisible force.

The yellow-eyed demon broke the ropes constricting him with ease and stood to his feet, rubbing his wrists. "I wanted to have a little more fun, but I never counted on _you _showing up, King."

Harry staggered to his feet and glared, releasing his grip on his magic to swirl around the room violently. "Who are you?" he demanded.

The demon smiled, an expression that was unsettling on John's face. Instead of answering, he turned toward Sam and Dean who were glaring. "I think _they _can answer that. After all, you _have _been searching for me."

"You," Sam snarled, doubling his efforts to free himself to no avail. "I'm gonna kill you!"

"I'd like to see that," the demon said, head tilted and staring as if they were pinned up insects instead of humans.

Harry growled, throwing his magic at the demon with all his might. However, instead of being blown back, his magic slid _over _the demon, as if he had some sort of barrier protecting him.

The demon stared at him, his smile not changing in the slightest. "Sad, King, _woefully _sad."

Before Harry could even get over the shock of his power not working, he was lifted from his feet and flung into the ceiling. A pained cry left his throat as his back collided with the roof, an unseen force pinning his limbs and keeping him hanging there.

"Harry!" Sam cried, helpless to stop anything that was going on.

Dean snarled, back straining as he tried to break free of what was pinning him. "Let him down you lizard-eyed son of a bitch!"

Their cries were ignored. The demon's yellow eyes never leaving Harry's green ones. "I thought you were stronger than this," the demon said with a sigh, shaking his head. "It almost shames me to think that I modeled my children after you."

Harry drew in a deep breath, the demon's eyes widening in mock surprise.

"Oops," he shrugged. "I said too much."

Harry concentrated with all his might, reaching deep into his core and _willing _his magic to break him free, but no matter how hard he tried he just _couldn't_. He had never felt so powerless in his life. The one he needed to stop was right before his eyes, but despite his best efforts, it just wasn't _enough_.

Having no other choice, Latin began pouring from his lips, the exorcism ritual coming to him easily as he stared into the demon's mocking eyes. However, it soon became apparent the longer Harry chanted that it was having no effect.

"What's wrong?" the demon asked when Harry trailed off, his eyes wide.

"What are you?" Harry demanded.

"You don't survive until _my _age without developing a little… _immunity_." The demon smiled, turning its eyes away from Harry and toward a fuming Sam and Dean.

"What do you want?" Sam spat, face screwed in rage. "Why are you doing this?"

The demon smiled and walked over so he stood in front of the two restrained boys. "Oh, I want many things, Sammy. And, soon? I think I'll have it. As for the why… That's such a _broad _question." The demon shrugged and looked toward the ceiling. "Why am I slowly torturing you? Well, because it's fun. But more than that, this is payback. You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter."

"_Meg_?" Dean blurted out, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

He was ignored, the demon continuing as if Dean had never interrupted. "Or do you mean _why _have I done everything leading up to this point? That's more complicated—but let's just say the big boss demands it."

"Mom and Jess?" Sam growled. "All the countless others you've killed? Just because someone told you to?"

"Well when you put it _that _way it sounds so pointless," the demon said, turning to Sam with a frown. "But things aren't always what they appear to be on the surface, Sammy, you'll see."

Dean gave a groan of exasperation, causing the demon to turn to him. "Can we cut the bullshit, please, and get this over with? My arms are falling asleep here."

"Dean," the demon said, walking over to him with a smile. "My _least _favorite Winchester. But… I'm sure that by now, you're used to coming in last in popularity, huh?" Dean didn't respond, his eyes unwavering as the demon bore down on him. "Daddy always _did _like little Sam more than you, and now even your own _soul mate _would rather be with Sam than with you."

Dean gave an involuntary jerk, his eyes swiveling over to a helpless Harry and then back toward the demon. "You know who else liked Sam more than me…?" Dean asked, a bold grin on his face. "Your daughter. That was why I let her have the pleasure of being exorcised by him."

The demon's face blanked. "You know, I _could _torture you, I'm sure John would _love _that; but no. I don't think that will be enough. I think I'll torture what'll hurt you the most."

For a second Dean's eyes flashed with fear and he stared at Sam. The demon gave a dark chuckle and shook his head. "What, Sammy? No—we need him in tiptop shape. No. Someone _else_."

Slowly, Dean's eyes traveled up to where Harry was still pinned against the wall. His felt his heart lurch in his chest as Harry renewed his efforts to free himself.

"Oh, yeah," the demon said, voice colored in sinister amusement.

"No!" Dean cried, just as Harry gave a sudden gasp, his eyes growing wide. For several moments Harry just stared, the entire room stilled as they watched him. Then, a crimson stain became apparent through the shirt he wore and the two realized with growing horror what the demon was doing.

"Stop it!" Dean yelled, his brother shouting similar pleas to stop.

Harry bit his lip as his wound deepened, blood beginning to drip from him to the white carpeted floor below, but still he gave no outward response besides a quiet whimper.

"He's a resilient one," the demon noted, eyes narrowed as he gazed up at a bleeding Harry. His head tilted to the side, something in the air changing, and suddenly…

Harry screamed in pain, blood staining his entire shirt red and the crimson liquid falling from his stomach began dripping downward in steady streams. He thrashed against the invisible bonds restraining him but to no effect. His mouth open and more tortured screams escaping him as the wounds on his chest increased in number.

"Stop, you psychotic son of a bitch!" Dean cried when the pain in Harry's voice touched his ears. "Stop!"

Dean felt tears gathering in his own eyes as he watched Harry slowly bleeding to death, unable to do anything as the man was tortured in front of him.

When it became apparent that making demands of the demon wouldn't work, Dean switched to another tactic. "Dad, please! Fight it! Don't kill him—don't kill Harry."

The demon stopped long enough to flash Dean an incredulous look, snorting. "Are you kidding me? John wants this kid dead just as much as _I _do."

Tears were now falling from Harry's eyes as his mouth opened, no sound able to pass his throat besides chocked gasps. Blood fell from his lips and Dean felt himself growing desperate. Harry was about to _die _and there was nothing he could do about it!

"Dad!" Dean called again, struggling for all he was worth. "Fuck, Harry! Stop it! STOP IT!"

White light suddenly exploded outward, engulfing the entire room and bathing it in an ethereal light. The demon turned toward the source of the light just in time for him to be forcibly expelled from his body, John crumbling to the ground in unconsciousness. With the demon gone, Harry too fell to the carpeted floor with a sickening thump, not moving.

Sam and Dean sunk to their knees, finally _free_ and they both scrambled to Harry's side, turning him on his back and gasping as they saw all the _blood_. Through his saturated shirt, his wounds continued to well blood which slid down and pooled around Harry only to be absorbed by the rapidly darkening carpet.

"We have to stop the bleeding," Dean said, trying to calm his wavering voice. He took his favorite jacket off his shoulders and tied it around the man. It wouldn't do much for the blood loss, but it would hopefully allow them to transport Harry without the man's guts pouring out.

Sam was as pale as a sheet; his fingers shaking as he checked Harry for a pulse. "He's still breathing," he said at least, "but only barely. Dean, we have to get him to a hospital!"

Dean nodded and with great care lifted Harry into his arms, growing more concerned when he didn't even give a groan of pain at being moved. If Sam hadn't already confirmed it for him, he would have thought he was dead. The mere thought of Harry dead had his vision blurred and his throat clenching so tight he couldn't breathe.

If Harry died he didn't… he didn't know _what _he'd do.

He began walking toward the door with Harry in his arms, wanting to just _run _but not wanting to make things worse for Harry than they already were.

"Wait!" Sam called, making Dean turn toward him with a growl. They didn't have _time _to wait. "What about dad?" he asked, looking at said unconscious man.

Dean almost snapped that they leave him, but the entire point of the mission had been to _rescue _him, so that would defeat the purpose. "You take him," he said instead, turning and walking as fast as he could without jostling the quiet boy in his arm.

Harry's face was white and his lips were colorless, doing nothing to ease Dean fears. He was _alive_, Dean assured himself. That was all that mattered at the moment. He would get Harry medical attention and everything would be fine.

It was that thought continuing on repeat in his mind that gave him the strength to keep walking forward, even though he felt like falling to his knees and weeping over Harry's still body. He had to stay strong. For Harry.

He didn't even check to see how Sam was managing with their father; he was operating with single minded focus.

Finally, he reached the first floor. When he busted out the front doors, he received many startled gasps from the apartment's residents. He was covered in blood from the chest down, and the person cradled so carefully against his chest was no better.

"Help!" he called, taking a step forward. However, the crazed look in his eye and his blood soaked appearance had them scuttling back, looking at him in fear. "He's fucking dying, help me!" Dean cried, taking another step forward.

Thankfully, one of the police officers on the scene managed to part the crowd and come to his aide, checking over Harry quickly. "Jesus Christ, what happened?" the man muttered in horror, taking in all of the blood Harry had lost.

He didn't wait for Dean's response; instead he took out a walky-talky and began talking into it. Dean heard words like 'ambulance' and 'critical condition', but they didn't _mean _anything to him. The only thing that had any meaning at that moment in time was Harry, who was currently dying in his arms. Harry, who had been tortured because Dean didn't know when to _shut his damn mouth_. Harry, who _really _should have listened to him when he asked him to stay with Bobby, but he had to be stubborn and convince them that he wasn't useless and now he was dying and Dean didn't know what to _do._

Dean didn't know when the first tear fell, but once they started, they didn't want to stop. Pained sobs escaped his throat and he whispered words of apology into Harry's hair.

When the ambulance finally arrived and the paramedics tried to take Harry away from him, he gave two of them black eyes for their efforts. In the end, they had to forcibly restrain and sedate him so that they could get to Harry.

The last thing Dean saw before he slipped into unconsciousness was the sight of Harry being loaded onto a stretcher, his blood having soaked through even the leather of the jacket.

**o0o**

Consciousness returned to Dean slowly, and the first thing he noticed was _white_. The ceiling was white, the wall was white, and even the _smell _somehow managed to be white. There was a steady beeping off to the side of him, and it didn't take a rocket scientist for him to figure out that he was in the hospital.

His eyes were unfocused as he looked around, searching for _anything _that could tell him what he was doing there? He felt fine, except for a slight sluggishness of his head that was wearing off and a sting in his left hand.

"Dean…"

The whispered calling of his name had his gaze snapping toward them, his eyes taking a moment to discern who the person before him was.

"…Dad?" he questioned, blinking twice and narrowing his eyes to bring the man into focus.

"Yeah, Dean," his father said, leaning forward and stroking his hands through his hair. Dean could do nothing more than blink when the man bent down and gave him a peck on the forehead, his eyes tight and pained.

Again, Dean asked, "Dad?" He was unsure of what was going on. Why was he in the hospital? Why was his father there? He only had questions—no answers.

"I'm so sorry," his father choked out, staring down at him with earnest eyes.

Slowly but surely, bits and pieces of what had transpired throughout the day came flooding back to him. He sat up with a gasp, a wave of disorientation overcoming him that he paid no mind to. "Harry," Dean breathed, ignoring his father pleas for him to lie back down, and struggled to his feet. "Where's Harry?" he demanded, leaning against a nearby wall as the world spun around him, causing a feeling of nausea to overtake him.

"Dean, calm down," his father said, voice wary but with an underlying sense of power. "Just lay down—"

"Fuck you," Dean snarled, glaring at his father in hatred. "You—you hurt Harry," he growled, taking a shaky step toward the man.

John's eyes went wide in shock, the venom in his son's words piercing him straight through the heart. "You're tired," he tried to reason, holding up his hands as if in surrender, "that was the demon, not me—"

Dean gave a sudden scoff, his equilibrium returning enough to allow him to stand on his own two feet without support. "You could have fought it," he growled, "I begged you dad, I _begged _you! But you _wanted _him dead!"

"I… son—"

"So where is he?" Dean cut him off, having no patience for his feeble excuses. Even now Dean could see the guilt on the man's face. He _had _wanted to kill Harry, and if the demon hadn't forced him to do it, he may have one day tried to do it himself. "Where's Harry?"

"I don't know," he sighed, hanging his head. Dean's look of disgust bored into his very heart, wounding him far more than hurtful words ever could.

Not even bothering to give him a parting remark, Dean walked out of the room, not knowing where he should be going. The thought to just scream Harry's name until he got a response crossed his mind, but he didn't think that would go over well with the nurses milling about.

Getting an idea, Dean grabbed one of the nurses as she walked by, giving her a charming smile when she stopped and looked at him. He was in a puke-green patient's gown with his ass on prominent display, but that didn't matter to him in the slightest. "Excuse me," he said, voice smooth despite the panic and pain he felt on the inside, "do you know what room my friend Harry Potter is in?"

The nurse's face scrunched up in confusion and she checked the clipboard in her hand. "Um, no, you'll have to check the nurse's stations, its right down—"

"He has black hair? Green eyes?" The nurse's face remained blank in confusion, but wariness was developing in her look. "Maybe he was with a sasquatch?"

It was that, of all things, that made her eyes light up in recognition. "_Ooh_, him. Yeah, he's in room 305, right down the hall." She pointed towards said room and Dean gave her another charming smile, her eyebrows rising.

She was cute, and on any normal day, he may have been all over her, but now was not one of those days. He didn't even give her a wink over the shoulder because he _knew _she was ogling his bum as he rushed through the hallways towards Harry room.

The closer he drew, the tighter his throat constricted. What would he find when he walked through those doors? What state would Harry be in after being ripped apart by the yellow-eyed demon?

Drawing in a deep breath, Dean stepped into the threshold and his heart plummeted to his feet. Harry was lying on the hospital bed, his hair messy as usual and skin pale-white. The only thing confirming he was even living was the steady beeping of his heart monitor. Various instruments and machines were hooked onto his body, including a mask over his face to regulate his breathing.

Dean's vision began darkening at the edges and his lungs refused to take in air. The sight of Harry laying there… it caused a crack to appear in his already fragile heart. A crack that threatened to break him into tiny pieces if somehow, someway, Harry _didn't _pull through.

A sudden hand on his shoulder made him look up, his brother's eyes shining in understanding. "Breath, Dean," Sam was saying, and Dean followed his orders, breathing in for the first time since he had walked into the room.

The whoosh of breath restarted his brain and he blinked, taking an almost drunken step toward Harry. Sam steadied him as he walked, and Dean very much doubted he would have been able to stand on his own two feet otherwise. Once he stood in front of Harry, he just stared down at the boy, taking in his broken state and feeling a crushing guilt fall down on him.

His knees buckled under the weight of the sudden emotion, his hands trembling as he reached up a hand to grasp Harry's much more petite ones. The hand was cold as ice, and Dean felt the same coldness spreading through his heart.

"This is all my fault," Dean whispered, but Sam still heard it.

"Dean—"

"No," Dean growled, giving Harry's hand a gentle squeeze, _praying _that he would get one back. He didn't. "I _knew _this would happen," he choked out, "I knew it!"

"You didn't," Sam promised him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "No one could have!"

Dean gave a watery smile and stared at his brother over his shoulder. "Yes we could have… because we're cursed, Sammy." He looked back down at Harry, his smile falling away. "We're cursed…"


	13. Matters of the Heart and Soul

_A/N: _Okay, I got a lot of people saying they're not too happy with Harry's apparent weakness. Well, I know its impossible to please everyone, but this chapter tries to do exactly that. If you're expecting Harry to turn into a Gary-Stu, I'm afraid I won't be doing that--at least, not for a while.

Have a little faith in me, yeah? I like to _think _I know what I'm doing.

Again this chapter was beta'd by the awesome **StarAngel Caelum SunSoar**. And don't forget to leave a review after reading, I'll try to respond to all of them!

**o0o**

When Harry opened his eyes, it wasn't to the golden room of his bedchambers in Orhalian, nor was it the pallid walls of a hospital room. In fact, he wasn't in a room at all. Harry wasn't even sure he could describe in words what the place _was_.

First of all, there was no sense of direction. He didn't know if he was lying on his back, standing on solid ground or floating listlessly through an endless abyss. Next were the colors. All around him, the area swirled in a kaleidoscope of colors that stretched on as far as the eye could see.

Harry didn't know if he was on some very good drugs or if he had died and somehow found himself in Purgatory.

The last thing he remember before 'awakening' was being tortured by the yellow-eyed demon, and then collapsing from the pain. Harry considered that one of his more… pathetic moments, but there was no use in worrying about it when he had bigger problems to deal with. So, if that was his last memory, did that mean he was dead?

Alouran had always told him that his soul would return to Orhalian when he died, so maybe that wasn't the case. Or maybe he _had _died but his soul went somewhere else—somewhere it wasn't supposed to go.

Either way, Harry didn't feel himself panicking. In fact, he felt perfectly at ease, content to wander through the endless sea of nothingness he found himself in. Despite how miserable an existence it would be, there was something about the place that he recognized – something that filled him with warmth and an inner peace. Something that almost felt like _home_.

"So you recognize this place…"

The voice came from both nowhere yet everywhere, but Harry wasn't surprised. A part of him had been expecting it.

He knew. He knew without a doubt where he was and he knew who the being was that had brought him here.

"God," Harry whispered, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he was no longer floating in a world of twirling color with no direction. Instead, he was on a rolling green field. Wildflowers of all shapes and colors littered about it. Lazy white clouds drifted through the sky which was a curious mix of every color known to man. A cool wind blew, curling around him and carrying with it the sweet smell from the various flowers.

A figure was standing in front of him was bathed in an ethereal golden light that obscured their features. The figure spoke, its voice carried on the winds. "Yes, my dear little brother. We once more meet after so many centuries apart."

Harry swallowed; his throat clogging as the sheer feeling of _awe _overtook him. Before him was the _true _God, the very man who made the world and was the very definition of it. He was what Harry was thought to be, and what Harry wanted with all his being _to _be.

"Do not bow your head to me," God said when Harry looked as if he would drop to his knee in his reverence. "We stand on equal footing here, little brother."

"Y-Yes," Harry choked out, unable to help the feeling of insignificance that washed over him. He was _not _on equal footing with God. He was a hack, a joke that couldn't even stand up to a demon, let alone protect all of the Dark creatures he governed over.

God sighed, his emotions seeming to carry in nature itself as another wind blew, brushing almost lovingly against Harry's cheek. "You are still young yet, Harry," God told him, taking a single step forward, more wildflowers blooming where his foot touched down. "There is still much for you to learn."

Harry's face twisted, his head once more lowering despite God's insistence that he hold his head up high. "I have Daekin's knowledge," he said, once more a feeling of self-disgust washing over him, "but I don't have his powers. I couldn't even take down a single demon!"

Again, a wind blew through the field, stronger this time and carrying a slight chill. "You have the power," God told him, making Harry look up at him in consternation, "_however_;you still do not know how to utilize it. That is why I have brought you here."

"I don't understand," Harry sighed, shaking his head. "I don't understand _anything_. Some god I am, huh?"

God chuckled—seriously _chuckled_—the wildflowers swaying in time with his laughter. "You underestimate yourself, dear brother," he said, voice still colored with amusement. "Do not worry, all will be explained to you in time."

Harry nodded, still a little shocked to see and hear _God_ laugh. Knowing that God existed and that you were connected to him was one thing, but actually meeting him face to face and actually talking to him? Actually _hearing _the man who was in essence his family actually acknowledging it himself? It was a surreal experience and Harry was _still _waiting to wake up, despite knowing that it was real... He felt it, just as he had felt at home upon arriving there, that the being before him was truly God.

"This is the Garden of Eden, right?" Harry asked, looking around the clearing as a sense of nostalgia closed around him.

"Yes," God said, allowing Harry to take in the sight of it all, "we spent many a day here simply talking to one another or basking in the each other's presence. Do you remember?"

Harry stilled, his eyes closing as memories of Daekin's—no, memories of _his _time spent in the Garden flashed behind his eyes. "I—yes," he breathed. "I remember..."

When Harry opened his eyes, God was within arm's length, warmth emanating from him that Harry could only compare to sunshine.

"I have missed you," God said quietly.

"I…" Harry choked, his throat once more clogging but this time for an entirely different reason. God's warmth was being soaked into him, and that same feeling was coiling around his heart and soothing pains he never even knew existed. Harry took a hesitant step forward, and with trembling hands, wound his arms around his brother. "I've missed you too, Geddy."

**o0o**

Harry was in a coma. That was what the doctors had told Dean after he had basically grabbed the man and shoved him against a wall, demanding that they do everything in their power to fix Harry. The man had been alarmed and fearful, but he told them that they just didn't know what was _wrong_. Even after a blood transfusion and Harry's body began its path to recovery, his brain—which had suffered no injury and was healthy as could be—just wouldn't let him _wake up_.

"This is bull shit," Dean snarled, once more in his normal street clothes and pacing the floor of Harry's room.

Sam sat in the only chair by Harry's side, his eyes on the still too-pale boy. "There's nothing we can do, Dean," Sam said, his voice flat and listless as if he had said those words a hundred times.

"It's been two days, Sam," Dean pointed out, looking on the verge of pulling out his hair. "These _hacks _don't even know what's wrong and we're just… sitting here and waiting on a miracle that'll never happen!"

Sam finally looked up at his brother, his face showing how much he didn't like the situation as well. "Dad went to Bobby's to see if he could find out what might be wrong. Until then, all we can do is wait."

"Wait," Dean repeated, scoffing. "Yeah, well I'm getting sick and tired of waiting, Sammy. I think it's time I _did _something."

"Dean," Sam began, eyes narrowed as he watched his brother pace. "You're not thinking of going after the demon are you?"

Dean stopped, his back to Sam. He stood that way for several moments before sagging, running a tired hand through his hair. "No," he said at last, "but I gotta do _something_, otherwise I'll fucking go crazy!"

"I know, Dean," his brother sighed, eyes once more resting on Harry's form.

"I think this has something to do with that freaky white light," Dean continued, face screwed in confusion. "I mean, what the hell was that?"

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Dean pulled the same routine basically ever few hours, and Sam found himself growing weary of it. "Your guess is as good as mine."

Dean growled, his fists clenching. "My chest felt like it was on fire. Are you sure you didn't feel it?"

"No, Dean," Sam sighed, giving in to his urge to roll his eyes.

Dean had an insane theory that the soul mate bond they shared with Harry had somehow given him a momentary burst of power that allowed him to banish the demon. The cost for that power, however, had been Harry's own magic, and that was why the boy wasn't waking up.

Sam might have accepted that theory, if not for the fact that he hadn't felt such a burning in his own chest, and he was _pretty _sure that he was Harry's soul mate as well. Not only that, the older man's theory gave him more of a reason to blame himself, and Sam wasn't one to let Dean indulge in the pity party he seemed adamant on having.

"Fuck this!" Dean exploded, turning on his heel and marching toward the door.

Sam was on his feet instantly. "Dean?" he called, using his longer strides to catch up to his brother easily. "Where are you going?"

Dean turned to him, eyes flashing as they stared at one another. "I'm tired of sitting on my hands, Sammy."

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked, voice hard as he kept a strong hand on his brother's shoulder to keep him from walking away.

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Dean frowned, shaking off the hold. "I'm going to go see Harry's friend, that incubus bastard."

Sam's eyes lit up in remembrance. "Alouran?"

Dean nodded, his face showing his distaste at the thought of his sudden plan. "Yeah. He at least deserves to know what happened to Harry." He sighed and turned away. "And, he might have some sort of clue of what's going on… and how to make Harry better."

There was a quiet moment of contemplation as Sam allowed the idea to tumble around in his brain. "Okay," he said, nodding. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

"Stay here with Harry," Dean ordered. "If his condition changes— if he so much as twitches a _finger_… you call me, you got that?"

"Yeah," Sam said, voice serious.

Dean gave him a final look before turning and walking away.

**o0o**

"So," Harry began after untangling himself from his brother's embrace, feeling totally at ease, "am I dead?"

Again, God chuckled, but this time it soothed Harry to hear it. "No, you are not dead. I have simply removed your soul from your body during its weakened state, and as we speak your body lies in a comatose condition on earth."

The two of them sat under a large oak tree side by side, its branches towering over them like an imposing parent.

Harry bit his lip, a sudden thought occurring to him. "What about Sam and Dean? Are they okay?"

"They are fine," God assured him, running a soothing hand through his hair.

"That's good," Harry sighed, his shoulders relaxing as the safety of his soul mates were confirmed. "Um, Geddy? Can I ask you a question?"

The hand in his hair continued its soothing stroking and Harry breathed out in relaxation, his head resting on his brother's shoulder.

"Of course," God smiled. "You can ask me anything."

"…Why?"

The hand stilled, retracting from his hair completely. Harry lifted his head to stare at his brother, but bathed in the light as he was, Harry wasn't able to make out heads or tails of his expression. The effects he was having on the Garden, however, gave Harry an idea. The once white clouds were replaced with grey, and the very atmosphere itself seemed to darken.

"Geddy?" Harry questioned weakly.

"I assume you mean why were you chosen to be the new King of Dae, yes?" At Harry's slow nod, God sighed. "Without Darkness, there cannot be Light. You know this quite well, but I do not think you ever considered how _true _that really was."

Harry's face twisted in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You are Darkness, Harry. And I am Light. However, when you died… what do you think happened to my Light, which cannot exist without you?"

"You mean—" Harry trailed off, eyes wide in horror.

A sudden rumble of thunder struck through the air, confirming Harry's fears before his brother even spoke. "Yes. For every day that passed without you, I found my powers growing weaker and weaker. I abandoned Heaven and hid myself away on earth, not only out of spite—but because I could not let them know how low I'd fallen."

"But you're better now right?" Harry asked, his worry shining clear through his voice. "Now that I'm back, you can return to Heaven."

"No," God snarled, and a flash of lightning ripped through the sky, a crack of thunder not far behind it. "You know well of my wrath, Harry, and even if I should one day regain my true glory, I cannot—I _shall not _return to them; the very thought of their sin against you… I do not know if I could control myself."

Harry felt his heart constricting at the pain laced in his brother's words. It must have destroyed him for the very beings he created to turn and attack what he treasured most—his brother. Now that he once more had him in his life, Harry couldn't imagine how he would feel if his Dark creatures ever dared to storm Heaven to try and overthrow his brother.

Still, Harry tried to reason with him. "You can't just abandon them," he murmured, placing a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "They _need _you."

God was silent for several moments, but the grey clouds in the sky were slowly receding. "Maybe one day," God allowed, sighing. "But I still haven't forgiven them."

"I have," Harry said, shrugging. "They feared what they couldn't understand, what was different from themselves. Besides, I'm back now, aren't I?"

The fluffy white clouds were back and Harry just _knew _God was smiling. "Sometimes, I truly wonder which one of us is Light."

Harry grinned, swatting at his brother playfully. If someone had told him that he would be sitting with God ten years ago and that he was God's brother, he may very well have had that person shipped off to St. Mungo's Hospital as soon possible.

"So," Harry started, changing the subject, "you didn't quite answer my question from before. Why didn't my magic work on that demon?"

"That's just it," God explained, "you tried to use _magic _against it."

A single brow rose on Harry's face, but he just knew that his brother wouldn't elaborate until he asked. "Are you saying that demon's are impervious to magic?"

God chuckled, a cool wind blowing. "No, magic _can _have aneffect on demons, but it is not your greatest source of power."

Now Harry was _truly _confused and he said so. "I don't understand," he admitted, shaking his head. "Magic is all I _have_. I don't _do _fist fights."

This time, God outright laughed. Harry was disgruntled to find himself being laughed at though still he cracked a small smile. "No," God denied, amusement coloring his voice, "magic is all you _know_. However, inside of you exists a second source of power: your Darkness."

"That's what I've been using!" Harry exclaimed.

God sighed. "No, not really. You have been using your Darkness to _augment _your magic, allowing you to use it more freely and without a wand. When using it that way, it is hard to control, correct? That is because your body isn't the conduit that it should be channeled through."

Harry stared ahead, face blank. "Okay, you lost me."

"Magic is the energy of your mind and body," God explained, voice patient. "That is why a physical medium such as a wand is used, because it allows your mind and body to have a central focus point to focus your magic through."

"Uh huh," Harry nodded, showing that so far he understood.

"Then there is the second form of energy, one used far less frequently and which is largely ignored. This energy, of course, comes from the _soul_. You, Harry, have been using these two energies together, creating a unique mix of mind, body, and soul to form what wizard-kind call 'wandless magic."

Again, Harry nodded his head slowly, trying to absorb all that was being told to him. So far, it was all making sense, but the thing he wanted to know most had not yet been answered. "I get that," Harry said, frowning. "But why is that a _bad _thing? Shouldn't mixing the two energies together be more powerful when combined?"

"Quite the opposite, in fact," God said, cutting his theory to shreds. "'Wandless magic' is actually the weakest because it only uses a _small _portion of both energies."

"So pure soul energy is the best?" Harry guessed, trying to wrap his mind around everything he was being informed of.

God smiled, the feeling of warmness exuding from him making Harry beam despite himself. "Yes," God said. "Soul energy is your greatest weapon, and it is what _truly _makes us gods."

Harry stared down at his hand, his face sobering. "So… how do I use this 'soul energy'?"

"Ahh," God hummed, the Garden shifting and changing under them. "That is why I have brought you here; to teach you."

**o0o**

Dean found himself in a familiar forest, the canopy overhead blocking out all light and cloaking his surroundings in darkness. Even if the trees had allowed light, it was night out now and dark clouds signaled an oncoming storm.

A rumble of thunder sounded from the distance and Dean growled, lost.

Where was that stupid vampire coven located? He was sure he had been walking in the right direction, but no matter how far he circled the area, he didn't _find _anything.

Suddenly, Dean heard a noise, a soft crooning sound that had him turning towards it. He didn't know what was making the sound, but something in its haunting melody had enraptured his heart. A pleasant fog was saturating through his brain, telling him to head toward the sound.

Dean listened, his feet moving of their own accord toward the one who was calling him. He didn't even wonder why he wanted to find the one making it, or even _what _they could possibly be. He just knew that they wanted him there, and he wanted to _be _there.

After walking for several minutes, Dean exited the forest into a clearing, the sky above releasing another roar of thunder. Men and women were standing inside the clearing, but Dean's eyes were drawn to the one who had stopped singing upon sight of him.

There was a woman, a woman with midnight-black hair and pale skin. She was familiar, but his brain was too disjointed to make out how or why. He didn't even know why he had been in the forest in the first place, nor did he care.

"Is that—?" One of the men began, trailing off.

The woman took a single step forward, a large grin on her face. "Well, well, well. Isn't _this _just a delicious turn of events?"

Dean didn't respond, just stared ahead, waiting. Waiting on what, he didn't know, but the fog in his mind told him it was the correct choice to make, so he listened to it.

"I never thought I'd see you again," she continued, coming to stand in front of Dean. "You look well," she commented, circling him as a predator would their helpless prey. "Good enough to _eat_." The woman chuckled at her words, and a few of her companions did as well.

The woman grabbed his face and titled his chin upward. She then proceeded to nuzzle his neck, a sigh escaping her as she inhaled him. Dean shivered when she pressed her lips against his neck and then followed it up with a quick nip.

She hummed in pleasure, her mouth opening and fangs extending as she prepared herself for a taste.

"Kate!"

Her fanged mouth stopped mere centimeters from Dean's unguarded neck and she turned toward the one who had called her.

"Luther," she purred, her fangs retracting. "Look what I managed to capture with my Lure." Her amused eyes turned to Dean and Luther followed them, a frown touching at the corners of his mouth.

"Release him," Luther ordered, walking across the clearing, his coven parting to let him pass.

Kate jerked, taking a step away from the still staring man. "What…? Why? Don't you want revenge for what he threatened to do to us?"

"I do," Luther said, standing beside his mate and staring at Dean placidly, showing none of the anger and rage he had felt once before.

"Then why—?"

"Can't you smell it on him?" Luther asked, placing his arm around Kate and drawing her to him. "This _hunter_—Harry has marked him as his mate."

Kate drew in a deep breath, her eyes once more on Dean. She gave an experimental sniff and—yes, now that she knew what to look for, it was there. A little piece of Harry was in that man, claiming him. "I-I wasn't going to kill him," she whispered, suddenly feeling as if she had misbehaved.

Luther gave her a gentle squeeze around the waist. "Even so, I do not think Harry would have been very… forgiving of us if we were to harm his mate in any way, even if it was just to feed."

"You're right," Kate sighed, biting her lip and looking at the ground. "I'm sorry."

"It isn't me you should be apologizing to," Luther said, shaking his head. "Now release him."

Kate nodded and did as told, a soft cry leaving her throat that had Dean shuddering awake, as if he had been sleeping on his feet.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered, looking around and wondering how he had gotten there. His hand was already reaching for his trusty silver knife, but then he recognized the beings who stood in front of him for what they were—vampires. "You," he snarled, unable to help himself.

Luther returned the sneer easily. "What are you doing here?" the vampire leader asked, staring into Dean's eyes.

Dean felt himself deflating, his hand moving away from his concealed weapon. Every instinct inside of him was telling him to fight, but he had to silence that part of himself. For Harry. "I need to find that incubus bastard," he said, voice as calm as he could make it. "Alouran."

"What do you want him for?" Luther questioned, eyes narrowed.

"I need his help, okay?" Dean barked, not liking the thought that the vampires were wary of _him_. "So where is he?"

Luther exchanged a glance with Kate before turning his attention back toward the irate hunter in front of him. "This is about Harry, isn't it?"

A lie was on his lips, but Dean choked it down, running a quick hand through his hair. "Y-Yeah. So tell me." When the vampire still looked unconvinced, Dean sunk as low as he ever had to what he thought of as an _'evil son of a bitch'_. "…Please," Dean whispered, his gaze not leaving the vampire's glowing eyes to show just how earnest he was.

"Alright," Luther allowed at last. "I'll tell you…"

Dean released a quiet breath, relieved.

**o0o**

"…John Winchester."

John sighed as he gazed at his longtime friend, Bobby Singer, ignoring the shotgun aimed squarely at his head. He gave a small smile which soon felt away. "Bobby," John said, nodding his head. "Are you going to let me in?"

They stood on the front porch of Bobby's house, Bobby in the doorway with his shotgun and John just standing there, waiting. Finally, the shotgun was lowered and Bobby stepped aside, letting him walk inside and shutting the door behind him.

Bobby disappeared and returned a moment later with a shot glass filled with whiskey. John knew, however, that mixed in with the whiskey was holy water as well. Still, he took the glass and drained it, shaking his head when Bobby appeared satisfied.

"You know, the yellow-eyed demon is resistant to holy water," John informed him after Bobby went into the kitchen to get an extra shot glass and the entire bottle of whiskey. The man filled both of their empty glasses before taking a seat.

"What do you think I am, an idiot?" Bobby asked, downing his shot. "I know that, that's why I put a devil's trap over the doorway."

John chuckled, shaking his head as he held the alcohol in his hand, staring at its reflective surface.

Bobby watched him, eyes hard as he took in the other man's posture. "What brings you around here, John? I thought I told you if you ever showed up here again you'd leave hacking up metal scraps."

Again, John laughed, but it sounded hollow, even to his own ears. "My boys…"

"What'd those idjits get up to this time? Bobby sighed, rolling his eyes. He gave a snort. "Well, besides the _usual_."

"Their… _friend_," John began, face tight, "got hurt by the demon. He's in a coma, and they think the cause of it might be supernatural."

Bobby's eyes narrowed. "This friend of theirs… was he around ye high with green eyes?"

John nodded, eyes on his longtime friend. "Yeah. Do you know him?"

"Know him?" Bobby scoffed, shaking his head. "The kid's practically a god!"

"A god?" John repeated, voice bland. "Bobby, I don't think—"

"Damn right, you don't! Don't you know _anything_? That boy is the King of Dae!"

John frowned. "Yes, I know."

Bobby stared at him as if he was the most ignorant man in the world, and from the way his friend was acting, John felt as if he might be. Huffing, Bobby stood to his feet and disappeared into his library for several long moments. When he came back, he was holding a leather bound book that appeared ancient, the pages an almost yellow color. John felt as if the book would burst into dust as Bobby placed it in front of him, the book already open and turned to a specific page.

At his friend's stare, John took the book and sat it upon his lap. With a last look at Bobby, he began to read, his eyes growing wider and wider.

**o0o**

Dean stood outside the hotel room Luther had directed him to. The hotel room was a luxury compared to the motel he and Sam had chosen to stay at when they had been in town. The building was huge and comprised of smooth white bricks. Alouran's room was on the first floor, and Dean stood outside the mahogany door, his fist raised to knock. For some reason, a feeling of dread and reluctance was seeping into him, making him hesitate.

Sighing, Dean decided to stop being a baby and knock on the door. He tapped his foot in impatience as he waited, hearing sounds of shuffling coming from inside.

"Coming!" came a muffled voice.

The door opened and Harry's friend and secretary stood there, hair disheveled and shirt wrinkled in various places. He was still zipping up his pants and Dean stared, a single eyebrow rising.

"Oh, Dean," Alouran blinked upon recognizing him, finished fixing his clothes. He gave a smile and poked his head out of the room to look around. "Is Harry here?"

"No," Dean said, drawing in a deep breath when Alouran paused to stare at him curiously. "Harry, he…"

Alouran's eyes began to narrow, and Dean felt his heart sinking. He didn't like being the bearer of bad news, and it was made even worse by the matter involving him as well.

"What's wrong with Harry?" The incubus's voice was hard, an almost feral lift to his words.

Dean swallowed, his eyes sliding past Alouran to land on someone else in the room. They were too far away and bathed in shadows for Dean to get a good look, but they were slim and sitting up on the bed, looking in their direction.

"Who is that?" Dean asked.

Alouran growled, closing the door to the room and stepping outside. "Don't change the subject. _What _happened to Harry?"

"Harry—he… he got hurt."

The blow to the face was sudden and Dean reared back, clutching his nose and gaping at the fuming incubus. "Son of a _bitch_," Dean growled, checking his fingers and breathing a sigh of relief when they came away clean. "Okay," he allowed, straightening, "I deserved that."

"How badly was he hurt?" Alouran asked, lip bulled back to reveal a set of wicked looking fangs. Dean was pretty sure that they hadn't been that sharp before, nor had the man's claws been so long.

Dean took a hesitant step away. "…Real bad."

A growl ripped through the air, and for a second Dean thought it was another rumble of thunder. But no, it came from the glowering creature before him. Alouran took a bold step forward and Dean scrambled back, preparing himself for a punch that never came.

"How?" the incubus questioned. "How did he get hurt?"

"A demon." Again, Dean gulped when a snarl left the incubus's throat. "I… I tried to stop it," he said, holding up his hands.

"Take me to him."

It wasn't a request; it was an _order_, one which Dean was in no hurry to refuse.

"Okay," Dean said, trying to placate the man. "Okay. Just… follow me. I'll take you to him."

Alouran nodded, a sudden flapping sound touching Dean's ear. Before he could even gape in shock, the man rocketed into the air, a sudden flash of thunder making the sudden leap all the more impressive. Alouran flipped once in the air before floating, gusts of wind created by unseen wings.

"How—" Dean began, but trailed off, shaking his head. "Whatever, just… stay close."

With that, Dean hurried to his Impala and jumped in. The clouds above opened up, releasing a downpour of rain. He wondered briefly if the incubus would be okay in the rain, and as if in answer, Alouran swooped by, almost grazing the hood of his car as he passed.

Dean shook his head, muttering under his breath as he started up the car. "Show off…"

**o0o**

Sam brushed a single strand of hair away from Harry's face, his skin cool to the touch. The boy was as cold as ice, and despite the fact that his heart was beating in his chest, his body temperature wouldn't regulate. That was another thing the doctor's couldn't understand, and Sam was ready to tell them to stop trying.

Not to stop taking care of Harry, no, but to stop trying to _understand _him. That was something Sam had quickly learnt about the man, he operated under his own set of rules and guidelines, and more than that, Harry was something never before witnessed—in more ways than one.

Sam had seen the cruelness in Harry, and his fierce protectiveness, but he had also seen his compassion and willingness to let go. They were contradictions, but Harry himself was a contradiction. He was a human, but he was also a god. He was Darkness, but he was also one of the _brightest _men Sam had ever seen in his life. Harry was healthy, but he had lapsed into a coma and he showed no sign of waking up.

He just couldn't comprehend the enigma that was Harry.

Sam turned toward the door when he heard a set of squeaky footsteps, and Dean stood there with a rain-soaked Alouran in tow. The incubus shouldered past Dean and rushed over to Harry's side, taking Harry's listless hand in his own.

"Dean," Sam greeted, standing and walking over to his brother. They both watched Alouran as he fussed over Harry.

"He hasn't changed?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head, knowing that Dean had been inquiring about Harry's condition.

"No, he's still the same…"

Dean didn't respond, but his shoulders seemed to sag the slightest bit. Sam put a hand on his brother's shoulder, comforting him in the best way he knew how.

Alouran had spotted the bandages around Harry's torso and was once again growling, staring at Dean. Sam felt his brother stiffen, but the incubus turned his attention away, his focus once more on Harry.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Sam questioned when Alouran's look had shifted from concern to one of curiosity.

"His body is fine," Alouran assured him, face pensive. "But his _soul…_"

Dean cocked a single eyebrow. "His soul?"

Alouran turned toward them, eyes narrowed. "It's missing."

"Where the hell is it?" Dean exploded, his eyes wide in shock. Sam felt a similar feeling lancing through him as well, wondering what the _hell _the incubus meant by his off-handed statement.

"Its… near," Alouran said, voice slow as he tried to concentrate. "I… I don't know what to tell you. He isn't dead, so his soul can return to his body, but… I—" He trailed off, shaking his head in frustration.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, the same thought flashing through both of their minds. "Is it possible that he's in the hospital?" Sam asked, turning toward Alouran. The man stared at him, face curious as he waited on him to elaborate. "I mean, like an out of body experience."

Alouran shook his head. "No. His soul is no longer in this plane of existence."

Dean gaped. "But you just said he was near!"

"He is," Alouran allowed.

"Okay, so where is he?" Dean growled, looking as if he were on the verge of taking the answers from the man by force.

"If I didn't know any better," the incubus began, staring at Dean, "I'd say he was in _you_."

Dean took a single step backward, his hand flying to his chest. "Harry's soul… is in _me_?"


	14. Good God, Y'All

_A/N: _Hey there, here's the (not very) long awaited next chapter of King of Dae! A lot of people have their own theories for what's going on, and a few of them are about to be blown to smithereens by the things revealed in this chapter. Hah, hopefully no one minds that too much.

If you have any questions after reading, leave a review! In fact, leave a review anyway~! I love each and every one of em. With that said, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Side note: Chapter title is totally borrowed from the same named Supernatural episode.

**o0o**

"Concentrate, Harry," God said, standing off to the side, watching his brother.

The world they dwelled in had once more returned to its swirling blank state and Harry stood in the center of it, eyes screwed shut in effort. Sweat beaded on his brow as he shook, _willing _his desires onto the very world around him, but to no effect.

Harry panted, sagging as nothing changed. "This is impossible," he sighed. "I just… I can't _do_ it."

"Don't give up," God encouraged. "To bring something into existence from nothing, that is but one of the many gaps separating the power of a god from that of a wizard. It is the key to understanding and mastering the enormous power you hold inside yourself."

Even though Harry understood, he still found it hard to put into practice. It was like telling a right handed person to suddenly write a legible five-paragraph essay in under fifteen minutes with their left hand. It was awkward and uncomfortable to do so, and you longed for the simplicity of returning to the ways you had always known.

But Harry wasn't allowed that luxury. If he were to _truly _ascend into his role as the King of Dae, he would have to relinquish his knowledge as a wizard—start anew and soar past the plateau he found himself struggling under.

Harry drew in a deep breath and eyed the empty space before him. He would start small, with something inanimate and which he saw every day, something _familiar_. He imagined what it looked like, what it felt like, and even what it smelled like. Then, he drew on the power inside himself, past the magical core which sung to be used and searched _deeper_, beyond the recesses of his body and into the Darkness of his soul. There he found the well, unbridled potential surging inside of himself that waited to be called forth at a moment's notice.

He was shaking again, but still he concentrated, imagining that the object was before him. A gasp escaped him and he fell to his knees, drained as his energy leapt forward to do his bidding. _Something _was now sitting in the place that had once been empty, yet with Harry's vision swimming as it was, he found it hard to discern.

God walked over to the object and kneeled, staring at the small object. With glowing fingers, God picked up the simple piece of wood and stared at his brother. "…Your wand?"

Harry managed a smile, a feeble chuckle escaping him. Even through his exhaustion, a blissful euphoria was growing inside him. "It's the most familiar object I have," Harry panted, smile so large his cheeks stung. "I did it, Geddy."

"Indeed you did, Harry," his brother responded, amusement in his voice as he allowed his brother to bask in his accomplishment. While it may have been small, he had taken the first step. Creating something from absolute zero…

It was a feat most humans couldn't even dream of accomplishing, even on such a small scale as Harry had done.

Wizards prided themselves on the ability to do the same, but in essence, what they did was only a cheap imitation. Magic was not everlasting, and as soon as the effect of whatever spell had been cast lost the power sustaining it, it would cease to exist. A couch transfigured from a cardboard box would change back to its original form.

Yet, what Harry had done… it would last a lifetime. It was true creation. Absolute.

"I did it," Harry repeated. Then, with those proud words, he promptly collapsed, a smile still on his face.

God stared, a single brow that could not be seen rising. Nevertheless, it seemed that despite that first step, Harry still had many more miles to traverse.

**o0o**

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, fingers tightening in his shirt above the area where his heart beat out a crescendo. "Harry's soul is in _me_? That—that doesn't make any sense."

Alouran nodded, face pensive. "It doesn't, but… that's where I feel Harry's soul resonating from. From _you_."

"Are you sure?" Sam questioned, hands steadying his brother when the man wobbled. "Are you positive it's not the soul mate bond or anything like that?"

"No," Alouran said, shaking his head. "I don't feel Harry's soul from you, only Dean."

Ice lanced through Sam's heart, a sudden thought shaking him. "Am I not… Harry's soul mate?"

"You are," Dean answered, before Alouran could even open his mouth. He seemed to have come back to himself and was staring at his younger brother, eyes serious. "Even if there's no freaky soul string tying you two together, Harry still…" He trailed off, looking a little green as the words coming out of his own mouth registered with his brain.

Sam smiled, more comforted by the words than his brother knew. "Thanks, Dean."

"Don't mention it," Dean groused, looking away. "No, really. Never mention this to anyone—ever. That goes for you too, Count Chocula."

Alouran raised a brow at his new nickname but refrained from commenting, as he had no idea what that was.

"So," Sam said, once he'd gotten over his chuckling, "if Harry's soul is in Dean… how do we get it out?"

The incubus folded his arms and stared at the ground, as if in thought. "…Good question."

"You mean you don't know?" Dean demanded, frustrated that what he considered to be their last hope having no answers.

Alouran frowned at Dean, his eyes flashing under the fluorescent lights. "This shouldn't have _happened _in the first place!"

Sam huffed, stepping in before the two could dissolve into a pointless argument. "Look, that doesn't matter; what's done is done. Now we need to focus on finding a _solution_." Seeing that the two appeared to have been chastised, he decided to try and move things along. "Dean, any word from dad?"

Dean checked his phone and frowned, expression hard as granite. He was still bitter that their father had not fought the demon harder, and suspected that the man hadn't even gone to Bobby's, that instead he was out drinking at some bar, pleased that the evil being tainting his sons had been eradicated. He didn't voice this aloud, though. "No," he bit out, clamping down his lips to stop the flow of disparaging words that wanted to come forth.

"I've never heard of a soul leaving its body and taking refuge in someone else," Sam admitted, wracking his brain for everything he knew about souls. "Unless they're a ghost, it shouldn't even be _possible _for that to happen…"

They all lapsed into silence, lost in their own thoughts. The only sound in the room came from the steady beep of Harry's heart monitor, both reminding and relieving them that Harry wasn't dead; he was still alive, but soulless. All they had to do was retrieve his soul from Dean and place it back into his body. Simple.

…Right?

"Missouri," Dean whispered without preamble, his eyes wide as he stared at them.

Sam stilled, turning to his brother in bewilderment. "Come again?"

Dean smiled, a spark in his eye that Sam had been afraid had disappeared forever. "Missouri!" he repeated, smacking a fist into his open palm. "We'll just go see Missouri!"

"Um, Dean," Sam began, placing a wary hand on his brother's shoulder, "we're _in _Missouri… Remember?"

"No," Dean snarled, staring at Sam as if _he _were the one spouting nonsense. "I mean _Missouri, _the psychic!"

Sam's eyes lit up in understanding, his mouth forming a small 'o'. Alouran stared at them both, not having a clue as to what they were talking about. "Who?"

"She's a friend," Sam explained, unable to subdue the hope that was rising in his chest. He and Dean locked gazes, communicating with the other without speech. "And maybe… maybe she can help."

**o0o**

When Harry regained consciousness, he was lying in a soft bed that was out of place in the blank room of God's current domain. His brother stood nearby, waiting patiently for him to awaken and released a soft hum when he saw that Harry was once more among the land of the living… in a sense, anyway.

"How long was I out?" Harry asked, struggling against thick blankets placed over him as he tried to sit up.

God chuckled, and with a blink, the restraining—though soft and fluffy—blankets were removed from existence. "Time is different here," God explained. "It continues to flow, yes, but at a much slower rate than in the human world."

Harry stared. "So… a long time?"

"Yes," God said, shaking his head in amusement. "You did well."

"I fainted from creating my wand," Harry denied, though still he smiled, his sense of accomplishment still not having left him.

"With time, you will be able to alter the very fabric of reality itself to your desire."

Harry's lips pursed, his brain racing as he thought of all the possibilities. "…That sounds dangerous."

"It is," God nodded. "That is why you must only use your powers sparingly. The ways of the world have been set, and changing them could have unseen consequences. I will not tell you how to use your abilities Harry; that is something for you to decide."

A crease appeared in Harry's forehead as he contemplated his brother's words, wondering what type of King he would strive to be. He had no plans of using his power to do foolish things such as change gravity or shift the rotation of the world. He would only use his powers selflessly, for the betterment of others and his children.

He would walk on the path of his brother, he decided on. He would listen to their prayers and do whatever was in his power to bestow upon them their desires.

He would finally be able to be a King… but first, he would have to master these new found powers, and he was still a long ways away from doing that.

Harry glanced at his brother, eyes set in determination. "Alright then, what's next?"

**o0o**

The drive to Lawrence, Kansas was a tense and quiet affair. Sam knew how much it pained Dean to even be reminded of Lawrence, but Missouri was the only real hope they had—and unfortunately, she just so happened to live in Lawrence.

Alouran had offered to stay behind with Harry, and while both Sam and Dean were reluctant to leave his side, they knew that the man would be safe with Alouran. And though they knew that Harry wouldn't wake until they returned his soul, something in the back of their minds worried that Harry would open his eyes and they wouldn't be there to witness it.

Dean pulled up outside of Missouri's abode and parked the car. Her house was a pleasant two-story building made of wood and painted in a soft cream color. Along the wall was an array of bushes that Sam was sure blossomed with roses during the spring.

"Five bucks says she knew we were coming," Dean muttered as he got out of the car, making his way toward her front door.

Sam didn't respond, because he was pretty sure that would be one bet he was destined to lose.

Before Dean could even ring the doorbell, the door opened to reveal the expectant face of Missouri Mosely. Dean gave Sam an 'I-told-you-so' look which Sam ignored, his gaze focused on the dark-skinned woman before him.

"Sam, Dean," she began in her pleasant accented voice, looking over the two of them with a sad glint in her eyes.

"Missouri," they both acknowledged, giving slight nods.

With no warning, Missouri reached forward and enveloped Dean into a hug. The shorter hunter's eyes went wide in shock but still he gave the woman embracing him a hesitant pat on the back. When she withdrew, Dean asked, "What was that for?"

"Oh, sugar," she sighed, taking his calloused hands in her surprisingly strong ones. "I'm sorry about what happened to your little friend, and I want you to know, it was _not _your fault."

Dean's eyes were again wide as saucers and there was a suspicious wetness developing in his eyes. He gave a dry swallow and nodded, all he was able to do under the force of her comforting gaze.

Then, just as quickly, she turned to Sam. "You don't have to feel so guilty either, Sam. Jess would understand…"

"What?" Sam sputtered, shaking his head. "No, I—"

He stopped when Missouri just gave him a _look_, one that read '_I'm psychic, I think I know what I'm talking about.'_ Instead, he hung his head and sighed. "I-I… right," he whispered, just as overwhelmed and left speechless as Dean had been.

"Come inside," she murmured, stepping aside and allowing them passage into her home. "Come on, quickly now, before you let out all the heat!"

That spurred the two into action and they stepped inside, Missouri closing the door behind them. She directed them through her cozy home and past a shawl curtain that led into her living room. After sitting them down on an off-white loveseat, she took the armchair nearest them. On the mahogany table in front of them, a steaming tea set lay and she poured both of them a cup. Both took the offered drink out of courtesy but didn't take a sip.

"I don't know how much assistance I'll be able to be to you boys," she said, cutting right to the chase.

"You know about Harry, right?" Sam asked, getting a nod from Missouri. "Well, we… we think his soul is inside Dean."

The psychic's eyes swiveled over to Dean and she closed her eyes, nodding as if hearing something. "Yes, I can feel him. I wouldn't say _inside _him, but… _with _him. Something—something's _blocking _him, but he's definitely there."

The two brothers exchanged glances, reassured to at least have something solid to work with.

Dean stared at Missouri, eyes imploring. "Can you put his soul back inside his body?"

"I don't know," Missouri said, face unsure as she saw their faces fall. "Whatever's blocking your friend, it's _strong_."

"What do you mean?" Sam frowned, his confusion written on his face.

She shook her head, the helplessness easily read from her expression. "I just don't know, sugar. I'm sorry."

"No," Dean said, "it doesn't matter. All that matters is if you can put his soul back."

"I'll try," Missouri said, but they could still see the uncertain look on her face, see the wariness and the reluctance. Whatever this 'something' was that was blocking Harry's soul, it was enough to worry the psychic, which meant that it couldn't be anything any of them would like.

Sam smiled to the best of his ability, hoping to ease a bit of her concern. "That's all that we ask."

**o0o**

Harry was improving, but it wasn't in the leaps and bounds that he had hoped. His brother told him that time flowed in an incomprehensible manner in the dimension they resided in, so Harry couldn't give an exact figure on how long he had been working.

It felt like days, but for all he knew, it could have been a mere few hours. He felt his thoughts drifting back towards his mates, to Sam and Dean, and the single thing tempering his desire to see them was the drive to better himself. So that he could help them—help _everyone_.

It was time he came to earn and live up to all of the hype and reverence his title demanded. Before he had been nothing but a mere wizard trying to fill the shoes of someone bigger than himself, but now he was in fact climbing higher, across the borders that separated a wizard from a being of true power.

"Do not be in such a hurry," God murmured, seeing the emotions flickering across Harry's face from where he stood.

They were once more back in the Garden, recuperating from Harry's latest exploit. He had managed to will forth an even larger object, a chair, and that small feat had been enough to exhaust him, but at least he was still conscious.

Harry looked over at his brother. "I need to be stronger," he said, voice hard as he stared at him. "I'm still weak. I can't change anything like this."

God sighed, his words carried on the wind. "Harry, it does not take power alone to bring about change—you know this quite well, yes?"

"That was different," Harry frowned, now plucking up blades of grass in annoyance. He knew exactly what his brother was referring to. "In Britain, the only course of action _was _to be diplomatic. In America, such tactics won't work. I think… I think this time, I'll have to use _force_."

Harry knew his brother was frowning, he could feel it in the temperature itself as it dipped at least ten degrees. "Harry—"

"Come on, Geddy," Harry said, shaking his head. "Don't tell me force is the wrong thing to use—I know for a fact that _you've_ used force on numerous occasions! The Great Flood ringing any bells? Or how about Sodom and Gomorrah? Yeah… so tell me, Geddy, when have _you _relied on diplomacy when it came to matters on earth?"

Dark clouds began gathering off into the distance, but Harry paid them no mind. God spoke, voice as cool as ever, "They left me no choice. You still have other methods available." Harry's response was a disbelieving snort. "Alright then, Harry. What disaster will you bring upon earth that will resolve all of your problems?" Harry's face twisted and he turned away. God continued on, regardless. "Will you cause earthquakes to plague all of America? Or will you simply sink it underneath the oceans?"

"You know I can't do that," Harry muttered, hair shielding his eyes from his brother.

"What change can you possibly bring about with force, then?" God questioned, voice curious. "How will force save your children from oppression or restore order to their ranks?"

Harry leapt to his feet despite his tiredness. His eyes were smoldering when he laid them on his brother, face screwed down into a snarl. "Then what should I _do_?" he exploded, resisting the urge to throw his hands into the air. "If force doesn't work and neither does diplomacy then… then what else is _left? _Should I just give up? Is that what you're telling me, Geddy? To _give up_?"

"No." The simple response had Harry gaping, and again his brother sighed, shaking his head. "I cannot give you the answers, Harry; you must find the solution on your own. I cannot tell you how to deal with your problems, nor can I talk you out of decisions you are set in taking."

"Then what good _are _you?" The question was out of Harry's mouth before he could stop it and he hung his head in shame, eyes wide once he'd realized what he said. "I'm sorry," he apologized, feeling the ripple of the wind which showed his brother heard the quasi-hurtful words.

God shook his head. "No offense was taken, Harry. Just because I cannot light the path for you does not mean I cannot point you in the right direction."

Harry looked toward him, face still regretful despite his brother's assurance. "What do you mean?"

God opened his mouth before he paused. The very fabric of the Garden rippled once, causing Harry to look around in shock, but everything was fine, as if nothing had changed at all.

"What was that?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

His question was met with silence.

**o0o**

Harry's room was full to bursting. Dean, Sam, Alouran, and Missouri all managed to shove themselves into the small hospital room, but not without first handing out a few hundred dollar bills to the doctors and nurses of the facility. They would have all the privacy they would need to perform the ritual and the faculty would turn a blind eye toward their doings.

They had turned off all of the lights and closed the blinds, the equipment Harry was hooked up to glowing in the sudden darkness. Missouri then began placing candles in various parts of the room and lit them, casting dramatic shadows that made Dean think of hellhounds. Next, the physic began painting symbols along the hospital walls that when questioned about, she said would block any hostile outside forces from interfering with what she was about to do. Not only that, it would keep Harry's soul inside of the room should something go wrong.

When all of the preparations had been set, she had them gather around Harry in a semicircle, Missouri being in the middle at the foot of Harry's bed. Dean stood next to Missouri, and to the other side of the psychic stood Alouran. Sam was on the opposite end of the semicircle. The two brothers stared at each other, _praying _that what they were about to attempt would work.

Missouri instructed them to all close their eyes and they did so. Then, with a quiet breath, she began to speak.

"_I call upon the soul of Harry Potter, come forth from where you reside." _

She repeated that line several times and Dean cracked open a single eye when results weren't forthcoming. His chest was beginning to feel warm, but that could have been from the spicy taco he had for lunch.

"Something is blocking me," she whispered at last, shaking her head. "It doesn't want me to touch Harry's soul."

Dean growled. "Tell that son of a bitch to shove it up its ass; we're getting Harry's soul back."

Missouri gave a quiet laugh. "I'll try." She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. "_Whoever you are, please stand aside and let me take back Harry Potter's soul… Huh…? I-I can't… I don't understand you…" _

"Missouri?" Sam called when it appeared as if the psychic began having a conversation with herself.

"It's trying to talk to me," she whispered, face scrunched up in confusion. "But I can't understand what it's trying to say… too much static…"

"Does it matter?" Alouran piped in. "It's standing in the way of us getting back Harry's soul—it _can't _be anything good."

Dean's chest was growing hotter and hotter but he ignored it with a wince, chalking it up to the ritual Missouri was performing to get back Harry's soul.

"_Stand aside now, or I'll be forced to move you,_" Missouri commanded, her voice hard. She waited for several moments, head tilted toward the side as though listening. "I can understand it now, but just barely… It's saying… Stop what we're trying to do, or..." She trailed off, her throat convulsing.

"Or?" Sam hedged, sharing a concerned look with his brother.

Missouri took in a deep, shuddering breath, appearing shaken to her core. "Or it will be forced to stop us," she finished, voice weak.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, looking to Alouran but the incubus just shrugged. He turned his wide eyes back onto the psychic. "What does that _mean_?"

She shook her head, eyes wide and breathing shallow. "I—I don't know."

Sam took one look at her and turned toward his brother. "Maybe we should stop…"

"No," Alouran growled, staring hard at all of them. "We've come this far and Harry is _right in front of us_. I won't turn back now."

Dean was torn. He wanted to side with his brother, yet he also wanting to go ahead with the ritual and say "screw you" to the bastard who was trying to stand in their way. "Do you know what it is?" Dean asked instead.

"I don't," she breathed.

Alouran was growing impatient, a sneer on his face. "I say we continue."

Sam gave the incubus a hard look. "I say we stop."

They both turned to Dean and he sighed, not wanting to be the one who made the final decision. In the end, only one person would decide if what they were attempting or not continued. "Missouri…?"

The psychic's reluctance to go on was evident. She looked around the circle at each of them, seeing something in all of them that made her resolve strengthen. "I… I'll go on."

"Missouri," Sam tried, but she quieted him with a small smile. Having no choice, he released a resigned breath and nodded his acquiescence.

"Alright then," she said, once more closing her eyes and resuming her quiet chants. The rest of them closed their eyes as well. With each word that left the psychic's lips, the warm feeling in Dean's chest that had seemed to disappear came back with a vengeance, with more intensity this time.

Dean took his free hand and placed it on his chest, feeling something burning there. With a frown, he picked up the amulet Sam had given him for Christmas and had to let go in shock. The thing was on _fire _and he was surprised it hadn't yet burned a hole through his shirt.

"_I command you to move aside_," Missouri was saying, but Dean was staring down at his necklace as it began to glow with a white light. A light he had seen before, and recently at that. The same white light which had banished the yellow-eyed demon.

Something in Dean's head clicked and he looked up at the chanting psychic, eyes wide. "Wait!" Dean demanded, wrenching his hand free of Missouri's. Sam opened his eyes and was staring at his brother in shocked confusion, taking in his glowing pendant with wide eyes.

He was too late.

Missouri gave a sudden scream. Dean rushed forward to try and help, but flames poured out of the psychic's mouth, making him rear back in alarm. Her screams continued growing in pitch, the sickening smell of flesh melting and hair burning saturating the air. At last, the flames roared as if it were a living being and consumed her whole, her screams disappearing with a quiet whoosh as the flames died.

In less than ten seconds, Missouri Mosely was reduced to nothing but a pile of ashes, her dying shrieks of pain still ringing in all of their ears.

**o0o**

"Geddy, what was that?" Harry asked, panic lacing his words as he walked toward where his brother was standing.

For a second, his brother had glowed as bright as the sun and Harry had to shield his eyes lest he be blinded by the radiance. Now, his brother was standing stock still, the glow having subsided. There was still a chill to the air, however, showing that he was upset.

Harry was ignored.

He stood in front of his brother, making sure he could be seen and not disregarded. "Geddy?"

God sighed and reached out a hand to run it across his cheek. "Someone tried to take you from here…"

"And…?" Harry asked, eyes narrowed.

"And I stopped them."

He didn't know why, but a chill ran down his spine and he shivered. The way his brother said it, so matter-of-factly… It didn't sit well with them.

Harry swallowed, his throat dry. "What did you do?"

"I told you," his brother said, turning and taking a few steps away. "I stopped them."

"_How _did you stop them?" For some reason, he needed to know. He needed to know _what _his brother had done to make sure he remained here in the Garden. With his brother.

He was met with silence.

"Geddy!" Harry demanded, his own power coming to leak out of his body without his knowledge. "_Tell _me."

God turned toward him, a sudden wind forcing Harry to take a step back. "I killed them," he said, voice clipped and holding no remorse.

Harry took another step back, this time of his own accord. He blinked once, twice, his mind still trying to catch up to the fact that his brother just admitted to killing in cold blood. "_Why_?" he choked out, that chill returning with a vengeance to creep deeper inside his body and touch his heart.

"Because she wouldn't listen to me. She tried to take you from here," God said, as if the answer should be as clear as day. "She tried to take you from _me_."

The ice squeezed Harry's heart before trickling down, numbing his insides. "You didn't have to kill her," he whispered, unable to even look at his brother. "She didn't do anything wrong…"

"Harry… she was going to _take you _from me, even after I warned her of such foolish actions. Do not tell me that you wanted that."

"N-No, but—"

"You still have so much to learn," his brother continued, voice soothing to his frazzled nerves. "You have only scratched the surface of your true potential. You want power, correct? The only way to achieve that is to stay_ here_, with me."

Harry found himself giving in, _wanting _to stay with his brother and continue to grow strong. But a sudden thought stopped him. "…How long?"

His brother titled a curious head, his incomprehension evident. "What do you mean?"

"How long will I have to stay _here_?" Harry elaborated, hands gesturing to the Garden they stood in.

A chilled wind blew, clueing him in onto his brother's displeasure. "Does it matter?"

"Yes," Harry said, voice strong.

God sighed. "I do not know. It could be years before—"

"_Years_?" Harry exploded in shock, staring at his brother with wide eyes.

"Yes."

"I don't have that kind of _time_!"

"Time?" God echoed, shaking his head. "What are a few short years when compared to the many centuries of life before you?"

Harry made a sound in the back of his throat, once more gesturing at the air in vague motions. "That-that's not what I meant! I… I just—I'm sorry, Geddy, but I _can't _stay here. Not for _years_."

Dark clouds gathered in the sky, and though Harry wasn't able to see it, he could _feel _the narrowed eyes burrowing into him. "If you are worried of your body deteriorating then—"

"No!" Harry groaned, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. "I… I have a _life_, Geddy… one I can't just put on hold for how many years it would take me to master my powers."

A single bolt of lightning flashed but Harry didn't blink. He met his brother's gaze head-on, eyes set in determination. "What are you saying?" his brother asked at last, a rumble of thunder following his words.

"You know what I'm saying, Geddy… I want to go back."

The wind began to pick up and there was another flash of lightening, seeming closer this time. The clap of thunder that followed was almost explosive. "Why?" God whispered, voice almost lost under the sounds of nature, but still Harry heard it. "Why would you want to return to _them _when you could stay here, with _me_?"

Harry didn't know if he meant the human world itself or Sam and Dean, who he was sure were the ones trying to bring him back. He had been selfish, thinking that they were fine and happy without him, not for a second wondering what they thought of his comatose condition after being tortured by the yellow-eyed demon. Either way, Harry answered, "I'm grateful for what little you've taught me, Geddy, I really am. But… my soul mates, my children, I—I just can't leave them behind. They need me."

Rain began to pour from the clouds, the wildflowers buffeted under the unrelenting torrent. Harry himself was becoming soaked, but the water seemed to flow _over _his brother, not affecting him in the slightest. God spoke in the same quiet voice he always used, but the chilling wind added a bite to every word, "What about me? I have been waiting countless centuries for your return, and now you tell me that those… those _humans _are more important?"

"Geddy, you know that's not what I meant!" Harry cried, horrified of what his brother thought.

"They're destined to bring ruin to the world," God continued, his words making Harry freeze in shock. "It would be better if you stayed here with me. I could _protect _you, Harry."

That booted his brain back into gear and Harry frowned. "I don't _need _protection, and no matter what destiny awaits Sam and Dean… I won't abandon them."

"Harry—"

"I want to go back," Harry reaffirmed. "Please, Geddy."

For several moments, the two stared at the other, the storm continuing to rage on above them. Then, the wind began to die down, the lightning and thunder quieting into nothing. The grey clouds were still there, but they didn't look as menacing as they had before.

"Is this what you truly want? Your powers…"

Harry smiled, walking forward to stand in front of his forlorn brother. "This is what I want, Geddy. And don't worry! Just because I'm in the human world doesn't mean I'm going to stop training." His brother swept him into a hug and Harry relaxed into it, inhaling the familiar scent. "I'll miss you…"

God laughed and nuzzled his hair. "Do not fret. I'm proud of you…"

"What?" Harry reared back to look at him, but his vision went cross eyed when his brother reached forward two fingers and pressed them to his forehead.

"You're a much more worthy King than you think, Harry. And just now, you've proved it…"

Harry gaped, his mind freezing as he tried to comprehend what his brother was telling him. However, already a white light was engulfing, blocking his vision of the Garden and his brother.

Before he disappeared, God whispered, "Till we meet again…"

**o0o**

The two humans in the room stared at the black pile of ashes, minds too numb in shock to do much else. The incubus member of their party, however, was staring at the unconscious man in the room, his eyebrows drawn down in confusion.

The smell of death tainting the air was sickening in its sweetness, but Alouran paid it no heed and stepped closer to his best friend and leader. He had felt a spark from the man. It was faint, but it was _there _and his heart swelled in expectation.

Stronger and stronger still the feeling became and Alouran _knew _that Harry was back. The color returning to his cheek was visible even through the dim lighting and when Harry sucked in a shuddering breath, Alouran's eyes grew wide as dinner plates.

"Uh, guys?" he called, not taking his eyes of Harry's face. The boy was wincing now, his eyelids fluttering. "Guys!" He heard them scuttle over and flashed them both excited looks. "I think it worked!"

They looked far from enthused; their eyes were dim even as they took in the sight of Harry's slow push toward consciousness. There was a spark of happiness, yes, but it was hampered by the sacrifice it had cost to bring about this miracle.

Then, Harry opened his eyes.

Dean drew in a quiet breath. He had been afraid he'd never see those eyes that glittered like emeralds ever again, and when those very eyes turned on him he felt a burning in the back of his eyes. Sam was no better. As soon as Harry opened his eyes, he grabbed the man's smaller hand in his own, relieved beyond words to find it warm and pulsing with life.

Harry blinked around the room, taking in the sight of everyone standing around his bed. His brain cleared, and he knew it would be hard for him to move in his weakened body. He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was too dry and only choked noises came forth.

Alouran was quick in handing him a plastic cup filled with water and Harry drank it down.

"W-What," Harry gasped out, swallowing, "what did… you do?"

All eyes went toward a corner of the room, but from where Harry lay, he couldn't see. He already knew what he'd find, though. He could still smell it in the air. With a sigh, he sank into his pillow, eyes closed as he thought of the innocent life lost in trying to help him.

"I'm sorry…"

It wasn't directed toward once person in particular. He was apologizing to the departed psychic, who was only trying to help and ended up losing her life; he was apologizing to Sam, Dean, and Alouran for making them worry over him and for not taking them into consideration; and he was also apologizing to his brother, for abandoning him when they had been apart for so long.

They, of course, didn't know that and began fussing over him.

"We have to get out of here," Dean said, looking around the room. Harry followed his gaze and his eyebrows rose as he took in all of the occult symbols and candles scattered about.

No one disagreed and Sam began packing up their things while Alouran unhooked all of the various instruments connected to Harry. The heart monitor dead lined and Dean cursed. It would only be a matter of moments until nurses swarmed the room, wondering what happened, and Dean did not want to stick around to answer questions.

Harry let out a short cry of surprise when he was lifted bodily into Dean's arms, his own arms closing around Dean's neck in reflex. He knew he was in no condition to walk on his own so remained silent, looking down at the pile of ashes as Dean walked toward the door and opened it a crack.

"Is that—?"

Dean followed his gaze, his eyes darkening as he took in the pitiful heap that one would never think was once human. "Yeah," he breathed, turning away and making sure that no one was looking before exiting out of the room and speed walking them through the hallways.

"Where are we going?" Harry muttered when Dean hid behind a wall to let a wandering nurse pass. Sam and Alouran were further behind, but the nurse only gave them brief looks before continuing on.

"Away," Dean said, rushing toward a staircase and running down it, despite the fact that he was weighed down with Harry in his arms. Harry let out a quiet whimper as his wounds were aggravated and Dean flashed him an apologetic look but didn't slow down. The sound of footsteps echoing was heard as they all continued downward toward the first floor, no one speaking.

When they finally arrived at the entrance, the sight of the automatic doors leading outside was like the sight of an oasis to a man wandering the desert. Nurses and civilians alike littered around the area, waiting on their own appointments.

"I'll distract them," Sam volunteered before he walked over to the front desk.

Harry watched, unable to hold in a chuckle as Sam displayed his Slytherin side. The tall man grabbed at his chest, shocked sounds escaping him and drawing the attention of everyone nearby. Dean laughed as well, and once it was apparent that everyone was too busy checking on the "dying man" to notice, Dean rushed forward.

Sam watched them from his place on the floor as he pretended to convulse, hands clawing at his chest. Once he was sure that his brother and Alouran had gotten outside safely he stilled his acting and stood up, much to the astonishment of everyone who had been watching.

"False alarm," he told them, giving them his best smile. "I'm fine."

Before they could question him he rushed outside and looked around. He didn't have to search far. The Impala pulled up in front of him, his brother in the driver's seat, two passengers in the backseat as well: Alouran and Harry.

Sam hopped in the car and cast a quick glance at Harry. The boy grinned at him, a spark of humor in his eyes. "Are you sure you aren't a Syltherin?"

"Nope," Sam smiled, although the confusion in his eyes was apparent.

Harry just chuckled, staring out the window as Dean peeled out of the hospital parking lot toward destinations unknown.


	15. Growing Closer

_A/N: _Aaaand here it is! This chapter is long... much longer than the previous ones at least, so I hope you all enjoy that.

Before we begin, I have a few things to say. The plot will take a back seat for a bit as we focus on the "Romance" aspect of the story so I hope no one has a problem with that. Also, all this time, I had Anonymous reviews disabled. I don't know WHY I did, and I only realized it like... yesterday, so all you anons who tried to review and found that you couldn't... sorry! You should be able to do so now.

Hm, and that's it. This chapter was beta'd by **StarAngel Caelum SunSoar**, so props to them! After reading, don't forget to hit that review button. Reviews make my day!**  
**

**o0o**

All of the occupants of the car were silent, each for their own reasons. Sam and Dean were mourning the death of their psychic friend, guilt eating away at them as it had been _they _who requested her help in returning Harry's soul. Harry himself was thinking about his brother, wondering where he was and if they really _would _meet again. Alouran had read the air and knew it would be best if he just remained quiet out of consideration for the others. They had been driving in silence for at least an hour, and the incubus was growing restless. He was bursting with questions and the slow mode of transportation was doing nothing for his patience. When he could take the silence no more, he spoke up.

"Isn't anyone going to talk?" Alouran asked, peering at each of them with narrowed eyes.

"Talk about what?" Harry questioned when it became apparent that Sam and Dean would not take the bait.

Alouran stared at him in concern. "You," he said, causing a single brow to rise on Harry's face. Of course, the brother's perked up in their seats, now interested in what the incubus had to say. "Harry, your soul was removed from your body and taken! Where did you go?"

Harry turned and stared out at the blurring scenery, unable to meet the eyes boring into him. "I was… with my brother," he whispered, all of them hearing him regardless. Alouran drew in a deep breath while Sam and Dean exchanged unsure looks.

It was Sam who asked, "Your brother?"

"You don't know?" Alouran gasped, as if their lack of knowledge was a travesty of itself. Sam gave him a wan smile, causing the incubus to scoff in disapproval. "Harry didn't tell you? He's—"

"Al," Harry cut him off, his voice sharp as knives. Alouran's mouth closed with an audible snap. "That's not important," Harry continued, earning two incredulous looks from his soul mates. He didn't want to lie to them, but telling them that he was God's brother… it felt like an extra complication he didn't want to deal with. Not yet at least.

"Okay then," Dean said, his tone of voice saying that _no, _it was not okay. Instead of forcing Harry to answer, he tried a different tactic. "You still didn't answer the question. _Where _were you?"

Harry frowned. "I don't know… I think it was a dimension he created himself. One separate from earth, Heaven and Hell."

Dean gaped. "Who is your brother, _God_?"

Alouran choked on his own spit and Harry kicked him in the shins. The action didn't go unnoticed by Sam and he stared back at them, eyes narrowed in consideration.

"He is, isn't He?" Harry could hear the capitalization of Sam's pronouns and knew that he had been figured out. Dean was staring at his brother in confusion, not comprehending

"He is," Harry sighed. "And I hate capitalization in words that don't need them… so don't do it."

"Okay, I'm lost," Dean said, looking at Sam and Harry while still trying to focus on the road.

Harry rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face. "My brother is God, Dean."

The car gave a sudden jerk. Dean managed to avoid from swerving, but they all lurched forward in their seats.

"Dean!" Sam cried.

His brother ignored him, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "You have _got _to be shitting me," Dean muttered, his eyes wide and unseeing. "_Please _tell me you're shitting me."

"Nope." Harry gave a helpless shrug, sighing. "My brother is the Lord Almighty, smiter of all sinners."

Sam, all things considered, seemed to be taking it rather well. Most would have flung denials in his face, and Harry was thankful it hadn't yet come to that. Sam's eyebrows were drawn low in thought and Harry could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he tried to comprehend it all. "Wait," Sam said, looking a tad overwhelmed, "if your brother is _the _God, aren't you… you know… _sinning _by…" Sam trailed off, face reddening as he gestured at himself and his brother.

Harry, while amused, spoke to save Sam from his plight. "I guess, yeah, but those rules are a lot more lax than you'd think. Anyway, I'm the god of Darkness, we are _both _the rulers of earth, and each governs over our respective children. His rules don't apply to my children, and my rules don't apply to his."

Dean was still staring ahead, muttering under his breath and shaking his head. Harry couldn't blame him. He had been much the same way when he heard of his own newfound deity status from Daekin. Sam, however, was staring hard at the dashboard, trying to soak it all in without his brain cracking—a hard feat, to say the least.

Harry knew he was shifting the very axis of their world and the truths he could tell them was one of the reasons he didn't want to reveal his status as God's brother. He didn't want them resenting him if they demanded things that were out of his control and he refused.

"How's that possible?" Sam asked at last, eyes closed and fingers rubbing at his temples. "Didn't you say you were human? How can you also be God's brother? I-I just can't understand that…"

Harry chuckled, realizing for the first time just how little they knew of each other. "I guess I never told you guys, huh? Hm, I guess I should start from the beginning then… Okay, what do you two know about souls?"

It was, of course, Sam who answered. "The soul is the eternal part of yourself that's supposedly more vital than your heart or even your brain. Despite the research of scientist, the lore says the soul is what really contains things like your feelings or memories. Oh, in _some_ cultures the soul—"

"Save the lesson for another day, Sam, alright?" Dean interrupted, earning a heated glare from his brother. Harry smiled, shaking his head.

"Really, Sam, you'd get along _so _well with Hermione." At Sam's curious look Harry just gave another smile. "Anyway, you're right. The soul is one of the most vital parts of any living being; you can think of it almost like… DNA."

"DNA?" Sam asked. Dean groaned, knowing that an information dump was imminent.

Harry chuckled. "Don't worry; I'll try to keep it brief. As I was saying, the soul is like DNA in that it contains the _characteristics _of a person. I could go further into detail—"

"Please don't."

"—but to save Dean his sanity, I won't," Harry said, grinning when Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "Now, when people die, there are multiple things that can happen to their soul: they can stay on earth if they have some sort of unfinished business; they can go to either Heaven or Hell; or, the third… they can remain in the Life Stream until they are reincarnated."

Sam was paying close attention, an almost rabid spark in his eye. "Reincarnation? That's _real_?"

"It is," Harry nodded. "It hasn't been used much, however, since Hell was taken over… but, Hell was not once a place of such torture and depravity." Dean and Sam gave him incredulous looks. "Yeah, I know, shocking, but true. Hell was almost like a… giant time-out, I guess you could say… but much more miserable. Anyway, depending on the soul in question's crime, they would have a sort of _jail time_. Once that time was up, the soul would enter the Life Stream where they would have a second chance at life—however, should they screw up even their _second _chance, they would be sent to wander in Purgatory forever."

By the end of his speech, even Dean was enraptured and he blew out a low whistle.

"What does this have to do with you?" Sam asked, eyebrows drawn low in consideration.

"Hold your horses, I'm getting to that," Harry huffed. "Anyway, to put it simply: I'm the reincarnation of God's brother. Before you guys start, _no _I do not want to talk about it and won't be telling you how it happened." They both looked put out and Harry rolled his eyes. "All you need to know is that I have Daekin's—that was the name of God's brother—soul in me, which makes me the King of Dae."

"Fascinating," Dean said with just a hint of sarcasm. However, Harry could see the awe and shock in his eyes and the same look was mirrored on Sam's face as well.

"So you've always been the, uh… King?" Sam questioned, rising a brow. "You know, since its—uh, Daekin, right?—Daekin's soul which let you become the King."

Harry frowned, wondering if he wanted to go into that particular story. They had time, yes, but for them to fully comprehend it; he would have to retrace his life, all of the twists and turns, the hurt and pain. He didn't know if he was ready for that…

Alouran placed a comforting hand on his knee, eyes shining in concern. "Harry, you don't have to tell them…"

Dean glanced back at him from the rearview mirror, having heard Alouran's comment. Sam heard as well and gave Harry an inquiring look. Thankfully they remained silent, leaving the final choice to him.

"No," Harry sighed, shaking his head. "I'll tell them." He bit his lip, his hands tightening into fists on his lap. "If we're ever going to… to grow closer, I'll have to tell them eventually. I don't want any secrets between us."

"Harry," Sam breathed, appearing touched by his confidence in them. Harry gave him a feeble smile, drawing in his supposed Gryffindor courage.

"To answer your earlier question, Sam, no, I wasn't always the King of Dae." Harry brushed the hair away from his forehead, revealing the faint outline of his once prominent scar. "When I was just a baby, barely one year old, a wizard murdered my parents." Dean and Sam stared at him in shock. Harry could only nod, unable to meet their eyes. "He tried to kill me too, but the curse he tried to use—the Killing curse, we call it—didn't work. It rebounded off of me and struck him, reducing him to something lesser than a ghost."

Harry rubbed his forehead, his eyes distant. "Now that I think back on it, I think I know what happened. _Daekin_. I think somehow, he managed to protect me… That curse was supposed to be unblockable," Harry explained when it appeared as if the brothers didn't understand. "It's supposed to kill _anything _it touches, no exception, yet I survived. How? I was nothing but a one-year old baby." He shrugged, shaking his head. "No one was there that night but me, so I guess I'll never know for sure…"

"What happened next?" Sam murmured. Harry gave a vague shrug.

"I was shipped off to live with my closest muggle relatives, my aunt Petunia and her family." Harry grimaced and once more stared out the window. "Before I tell you about my _wonderful _relatives, I should probably give you a little more background info. When that wizard I was telling you about—Voldemort was his name—tried to kill me, a little piece of his soul transferred into me. Because of that, Daekin's soul, which was supposed to merge with mine gradually, was unable to do so. So by this point, I guess you could say I was the _Prince _of Dae." Harry chuckled, earning a small smile from Sam and Dean as well.

"Now then, back to my oh-so-loveable relatives, the Dursleys. Let me say now, I _despised _them." His tone of voice left no doubt to his disgust and Sam and Dean exchanged glances, surprised. Harry noticed their look and gave a dark chuckle. "They treated me like a house elf."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Like a _what_?"

"A slave," Harry drawled, "they treated me like a _slave_."

Dean winced. "Gotcha," he whispered, horrified. Sam shared his sentiments, a pained look on his face.

Harry placed his head against the cool window, hoping to temper the burning anger simmering inside him as he recalled his abuse at the hands of the people who should have taken care of him. "I don't want to linger long on the Dursleys," Harry said. Alouran again placed a strong hand on his knee and Harry swallowed, giving the incubus a nod. "Like I was saying, they made me do _everything_. Cook, clean, garden… and I wasn't even appreciated for all the things I did for them. Infact, they called _me _the ungrateful one!" Harry drew in a deep breath, trying and failing to quell the rage rising within him.

"Harry—"

"I'm fine," Harry bit out. Alouran eyed him for a moment before nodding, drawing away. Harry sighed. "They locked me in the cupboard under the stairs as 'punishment', but what they _didn't _know was that I liked it."

"…You _liked _it?" Dean asked, incredulous.

"No, not really," Harry admitted. "I _hated _how cramped and confined it was, but I loved the dark. That was the _only _good thing about it… Anyways, the Dursley were the _ultimate _muggles, concerned only about their self image. As such, I was the 'freak' of the family because of my parents, who were wizards. They treated their _own _pig of a son like royalty while I was left with the scraps… They told me my parents were drunks and that they died in a car accident; they told me that magic was wrong and punished me for reading the same fairytales they told to their _precious _Duddikins." Harry paused, his magic pulsing under his skin and saturating the air of the car.

"Harry! Harry, _calm down_!" The sound of Alouran's voice broke him from his stupor and he blinked, looking around his surroundings. They were still inside the Impala, but they were no longer moving.

"Why have we stopped?" Harry asked, watching as car's race by while they sat parked off to the side of the road.

"Dude, you were spazzing out back there," Dean said, turned in his seat to look back at him in worry. "I thought you were gonna _explode _or something… You okay?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, unconcerned to find it trembling. "I'm fine." He received blank stares in response. "I'm _fine_, really!"

"Harry if you don't want to, you don't have to tell us anymore," Sam told him, throwing a look over to his brother who nodded in agreement.

"I want to," Harry sighed. "I want you to understand who I really am…"

Again, looks were exchanged and Harry would be glad when he could understand what those looks _meant_. As if coming to a decision, Dean cranked up the car and drove back onto the road. "Alright," Dean said, "but if you blank out or whatever again, you stop, you got that?"

Harry raised a single brow, a little amused at their concern. "Don't worry, I'm almost finished speaking about the Dursleys… Oh, anyway, Hogwarts!" A smile bloomed on Harry's face. "I had just turned eleven when I got my first piece of mail in like… _ever_, and what a letter it was! Here I am, this kid who's been told magic and fairy dust and bloody _rainbows _are fake, getting a letter from a _school _which tells me I was a wizard! It was practically the best day of my life!"

Sam and Dean couldn't resist the smiles that tugged at their lips as Harry spoke, telling of how his terrible relatives tried to stop him from going and how the friendly giant Hagrid changed that.

"You should have seen the look on their faces," Harry chortled, his body shaking in mirth. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to have a snapshot of _that_."

They listened with rapt attention as Harry told him of the new world he had stepped into and their own eyes went wide with wonder at the many tales Harry told them. Harry was always using weird words or names in his speech, and they were finally coming to understand just what type of world Harry came from.

Dean looked a little green at the mention of chocolate frogs and Sam wanted to see the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall for himself. They were told of his first friend, Ron, and his soon-to-be friend, Hermione. They laughed at all the appropriate moments and gaped at the more extreme twists Harry life took.

However, by the boy's fourth year, the happy spark began to fade and the tales Harry told them became more and more dark. Harry didn't 'blank out', though. He told the tale of Cedric dying in front of his eyes in a dull voice and when he spoke of Voldemort's return, his eyes were haunted.

Sam and Dean didn't interrupt, and neither did Alouran. They offered their reassurances without speaking, and Harry seemed to appreciate it.

At long last they reached the end of their tale with Harry meeting Daekin for the first time and his transformation as the King of Dae.

"It was like I had been living my entire life in this closed-off bubble, and without it I felt so… _free _and alive." Harry smiled, a radiant thing that took the brother's breath away. It didn't last long. The smile fell away and the desolate look in Harry's eyes returned.

"Harry?" Sam asked, seeing the drastic change in Harry's mood.

"They all died," Harry said in a small voice, looking down at his trembling hands. Tears gathered on his lashes but he refused to let them fall. "I was too late… and they all died. All of them…"

Alouran again reached out to comfort him. "Harry, it wasn't your—"

"Don't you say it wasn't my fault!" Harry snarled, turning an angry glare on his friend. Dean and Sam were surprised, but Alouran just lifted his hands in surrender, eyes shining with compassion. "It _was _my fault," Harry choked. "I could have… I could have _saved _them. If only I'd killed Voldemort _sooner _or if I hadn't taken so long at getting back to the bloody castle then—!" Harry broke off into another sob, his entire body trembling from the force of his unshed tears.

Sam and Dean could only look on in helplessness, wishing they could comfort him in some way. But they had no words. What _could _you say to someone who lost everything in one fell swoop while at the same time gaining so much? Alouran placed a single hand on Harry's shoulder and Harry gave him a watery smile for his efforts.

"I know they're in a better place now, but…" Harry shook his head, drawing in a deep breath. "It doesn't change the weight of my failure… I'll bare that weight for the rest of my life…"

"Harry," Sam breathed, wanting nothing more than to pull Harry into his arms and never let go. Dean felt the same. His heart ached for Harry after learning of his origins, and while he still thought of Harry as being of the Supernatural, he could no longer find fault in him.

He had thought _they _lived terrible lives, but Harry showed just how well they had it when compared to so many.

"So now you know," Harry finished, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He tried to give them a reassuring smile, but behind that façade they could see the pain that lurked underneath.

The death of his friend's had wounded him deeply, and even after so many years, that wound was still open and bloody. Sam knew that it could never be healed completely, but Harry needed to learn to let go, otherwise he would one day be crushed underneath the force of his guilt.

Sam wanted to snort. Who was he to talk? Even now he couldn't let go of Jessica or his mother. His whole family, their existence… it revolved around not letting go, of clinging to the hate and the pain and using it as fuel.

But with Harry… he didn't want that for him. Harry had suffered enough. He had lost so much, and even now he was losing _more_.

Sam felt guilt eat away at him as he recalled all of the Dark creature's he had killed; Harry's _children_. In a way, he had been responsible for a bit of Harry's pain, and he was determined to make it up to him. No, he _would _make it up to him…

The question, however, was _how_?

**o0o**

Hours had passed since Harry began his tale, and the sun was setting on the horizon, painting the sky in a myriad of colors. The sky was clear of all clouds, and it had been many miles since they'd left a big city and now all they passed were open fields and dense woods.

Harry was exhausted. Recounting his entire life in one sitting had drained him, and before he knew it he was dozing off in his seat. He awoke with a jerk when the car came to a stop, the sun no longer in sight. It was night time now and the sky seemed to glow with all the twinkling stars.

Still half-asleep, Harry glanced around, wondering where they were. The place looked familiar and all the cars scattered about tugged on his memories. His eyes landed on the house and Harry's eyes lit up with recognition. They were at Bobby's house, but there was a truck parked outside that Harry was sure hadn't been there last time.

"Looks like dad at least kept his word," Dean muttered, cutting off the engine and glancing at the backseat. "Oh, Harry. Perfect timing. We're here."

With Dean's comment, all eyes flew toward him and Harry rubbed his eyes, becoming fully awake.

"Where is 'here'?" Alouran asked, glancing around in distaste.

"This is Bobby's house," Harry said before either of the brothers could. "He's a friend." Harry moved to open his door but Dean stopped him.

"Whoa, where do you think you're going?"

"Uh… inside?"

"Can you even walk?"

Harry stared down at his legs, willing his toes. He had been in a coma for a few days, yes, but his magic was doing its job; he was recovering already. "…I think I can manage," he hedged. He received three unimpressed stares. "Fine," he huffed, rolling his eyes, "but that means one of _you _will have to carry me."

The innocuous demand caused all movement in the vehicle to stop. Harry felt his face flaming underneath the force of their combined stares. "What?"

His incubus friend just rolled his eyes, an amused smirk on his face. Sam and Dean stared for several moments before turning toward the other, eyes narrowed in silent challenge. Sparks seemed to fly from their very gazes, and Harry wondered whatthe hell was going on.

"You know what this means," Dean said, voice hard as he glared at his younger brother.

Sam returned the stare, unflinching. "Yep," he agreed, cracking his neck, lips pulled back in a snarl.

Harry gave a quiet gulp. Alouran watched on, laughing under his breath.

"Rock, paper, scissor, shoot!" The brother's cried, springing forth with their respective choices. Alouran broke off into full force laughter and Harry gaped, stunned that they had resorted to such a childish method after that tense showdown.

Dean gave a despairing cry at the results. He had picked scissors while his brother had picked rock. "Freaking scissors," Dean muttered, glaring down at his fingers. His brother laughed at him without pity.

By now, Harry's shock had worn off and he had traversed into the realm of bemused. "Okay, what was that?"

Neither answered. Dean got out of the car and still laughing, his brother followed and came around to open Harry's door. Sam flashed him a smile and Harry returned it, amusement shining in his eyes as he allowed himself to be lifted into Sam's arms.

Harry couldn't help but marvel at the strength that both brother's possessed. He knew he was small, but they were able to lug him around without as much as a grunt of effort. Maybe he should work out… or drink more milk.

Alouran took much longer in opening his own door, unfamiliar with the technology. When he managed to get it open he stepped out, grumbling under his breath. He slammed the door closed with more force than necessary.

"Hey!" Dean cried, glaring at the incubus. "If you put a dent in my baby I'll put a dent in your _face_."

"Sorry," Alouran drawled, appearing far from apologetic.

Harry gave a quiet chuckle into Sam's neck, nuzzling against the man and making the most of the situation he found himself in. A shiver went down the hunter's spine as Harry's warm breath ghosted over his collarbone. Sam stared down at him, eyes a little dark as Harry returned the look with a playful grin.

"Come on, you two," Dean growled, rolling his eyes and trekking over to Bobby's front door. Alouran followed, giving Harry a less than covert thumbs up as he did so.

Sam sent him another good-natured grin before walking over to his brother who had already knocked, adjusting his hold on Harry. In no time at all Bobby answered the door, shotgun in hand as he surveyed all of them. His eyes lingered on Alouran and Harry in particular, especially the way Sam cradled him, but he stepped aside and gestured them in with a tilt of his head.

They all walked inside, but a hesitant voice called from the doorway, "Uh… guys?"

Harry craned his neck to look and a growl left his throat when he saw Bobby's gun was cocked and aimed at Alouran. The incubus was trapped in the doorway, struggling against whatever it was that bound him.

"What the hell are you?" Bobby snarled.

Harry tried to struggle free of Sam's grasp, but the man had a strong hold on him. "Sam! Let me go!"

"No," Sam said, instead drawing him closer. Harry glared but turned back to Bobby.

"He's an incubus," Harry explained, a glower on his face as Bobby reared back in surprise. His gun didn't lower, but his apprehension seemed to have lessened. "They have biology similar to that of a demon, but salt and holy water have no effect on them."

Bobby snorted and gestured toward the devil's trap along the top of the doorway. "_That _apparently does."

Harry felt his magic wanting to slip free of his control, but he kept an iron lock on it, staring Bobby down. "It does," he agreed. "But Alouran is _not _a demon."

"Bobby…" Sam called. "He's okay, _trust _us."

Dean nodded, a frown on his face. "Yeah, he's a bit of a bastard, but not an _evil _bastard."

Bobby looked at them both, measuring how earnest both were being. With a sigh, the grizzled hunter lowered his gun and walked forward to smear a single line of the devil's trap. Alouran stumbled forward as he was released, relief shining plain on his face.

"Thank you," the incubus murmured, receiving a short nod in reply from Bobby before the man turned on his heels and walked into another room. The incubus turned his look of gratitude on the other two hunters, but they brushed it off, giving him hesitant smiles.

Harry felt a lightness settling in his heart at the sight of his soul mates warming up to Alouran. It was tentative at best, but a start was a start and it was leagues above the suspicion and outright hostility they had showed him before.

Before Harry could stop himself, he placed his arms around Sam's neck and pulled himself up to give the man a light peck on the cheek. Still, it was enough to cause Sam's eyes to grow wide in surprise. "What was that for?" he asked, voice light but with an underlying sense of pleasure.

"For being such a good boy," Harry told him, smiling when Sam just shook his head and chuckled. He turned to look at Dean and the man's face was a curious sight. His own eyes were narrowed and his face was tense, but when he saw that Harry was looking he turned away. "You've been a good boy too, Dean," Harry teased. As expected, a slow flush crawled across the man's face and he scowled, finding something in the corner of the room interesting.

"Whatever," Dean dismissed, face still red. "Let's just… let's just… uh, yeah." Without even forming a comprehensible sentence, the shorter hunter followed in Bobby's footsteps and disappeared into a different room.

Alouran once again followed after Dean, throwing an over the top wink at Harry as he did so.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I wish he'd stop doing that."

Sam chuckled and gave him a squeeze. "Come on," he said, walking toward the room that everyone had disappeared into. As soon as Sam stepped into the doorway carrying Harry, they were able to feel the thick tension in the room. It was almost enough to make one suffocate.

The first person who Harry noticed was John. The man was seated on one of Bobby's old couches that weren't occupied by books and he was staring at his eldest son with a regretful look on his face. Dean stood near the wall by the entrance, returning his father's stare with a look of distaste. Bobby looked exasperated with it all, his arms folded across his chest.

John's gaze swiveled over to Sam, and his eyes widened upon spotting Harry. Instead of the hostility Harry had expected, he looked at him with something like resignation. He eyed the hold Sam had on him before nodding. Harry returned it was a hesitant nod of his own.

"Sam," his father greeted, a small smile touching the edge of his mouth.

Sam returned the smile and nodded. "Dad."

Harry spotted Alouran standing by the window, appearing out of his element in what was for the most part enemy territory. The incubus seemed to be pleading to Harry for help, but he didn't think there was much he could do in this situation.

The silence was tense and awkward, Harry shifting in Sam's arms and wondering what to do about the state of affairs he found himself thrust in. As if waiting for the worst possible moment, his stomach gave a sudden rumble, all eyes zeroing in on Harry. His eyes widened in surprise and an embarrassed flush began creeping across his face and even down into his neckline. "Uh," Harry coughed, trying and failing to smile, "I guess I'm hungry…?"

That seemed to do it. Bobby snorted and stood to his feet, rolling his eyes. Sam snorted and stared down at Harry with fondness. Dean just gave him a raised eyebrow as if to say '_Really?'_ while Alouran outright laughed. John, however, appeared unbothered by Harry's unorthodox icebreaker and was still staring at his eldest son, though Dean was no longer paying him any attention.

"Follow me," Bobby said, walking toward what Harry assumed to be the kitchen.

Harry cleared his throat and stared up at the tall hunter. "To the kitchens, noble steed."

Sam rolled his eyes though he was still grinning. "Right away, _your highness_."

"I'll be outside," Alouran said, appearing relieved he would no longer have to deal with the stuffy hunters. Harry grinned and nodded, wishing he could escape as well.

They followed Bobby into the kitchen and found the man rummaging around in his refrigerator. He peeked over his shoulder when he heard them enter and then continued on in his search. Sam sat Harry into one of the seats at the table of the kitchen and Dean came in moments later, leaning against the doorway.

"What are you making?" Dean asked after giving Harry a subdued smile.

"The only thing I know _how _to make," Bobby replied, pulling out chopped ham, lettuce and other ingredients. "A good old fashion sandwich."

"Ritzy," Harry murmured, loud enough for just the brothers to hear. They both laughed but stopped when Bobby gave them an unimpressed glare.

"I heard that," the old hunter drawled, taking the ingredients and getting to work. Harry once again found himself blushing, sending a sheepish smile at the man's back that went unseen. "And this ain't a five star restaurant; you take what I give you or you can starve to death."

Harry coughed, feeling as if he were being chewed out by one of his professors during his Hogwarts years. "A sandwich is fine, thank you," he replied, putting as much sincerity in his voice as he could muster.

"Hey, Bobby, you mind making me one of those things?" Dean questioned, his mouth watering as the fruits of the man's labor became evident.

Bobby scoffed. "Are you injured?" Dean gave a confused negative in response. "Then get off your lazy ass and make one yourself."

Sam laughed at his brother's plight and even Harry gave a smile in Dean's direction.

At last, the sandwich was complete and Bobby plopped it down in front of a surprised Harry. Even though the ingredients were things found in a common household, it was a sight to behold. It was comprised of two slices of bread, at least six slices of meat, lettuce, tomatoes, mustard, mayonnaise, and liberal slices of cheese.

Harry just gaped at it, his stomach rumbling at the sight. Even as hungry as he was, however, he had no delusions of finishing such a monster sandwich. "I can't eat all of this…"

Bobby was less than sympathetic and gave him a dry stare. "_Try_."

Harry turned pleading eyes toward his soul mates. "Sam?"

"I'm not hungry," Sam said, waving the offer away.

Dean, of course, hopped onto the opportunity with open arms. "I am, move over!" Dean grabbed another chair and placed it next to Harry's. He clapped his hands, his eyes alight with the prospect of digging into the giant sandwich. "You know I love you right?" The question was quick and playful, but that didn't stop Harry's eyes from going wide or his heart from thumping against his ribcage. Dean realized what he said and stilled, eying Harry out of the corner of his eye. "I—"

Harry sighed, giving the man a small smile to relieve his fears. "I know, Dean."

The air was still awkward and Sam stared between the two, eyes narrowed. Bobby muttered under his breath about something and exited the room. Dean gave a jerky nod and split the sandwich in two diagonally, taking half for himself and leaving the rest for Harry.

"Thanks," Harry murmured, ignoring Sam's piercing gaze and the overpowering presence of Dean sitting so close next to him.

"No problem," Dean said, coughing. He took a nervous bite of his sandwich and froze, staring down at it as if gazing upon some majestic being.

"Dean?" Sam called, causing Harry to look at Dean as well. The man chewed the food in his mouth and swallowed, still gaping as if he had found the Fountain of Youth.

Dean blinked and looked near the verge of tears. Harry found himself growing concerned and turned to face Dean more fully. "This sandwich," the shorter hunter began, "is the _greatest _thing I have ever tasted… in my _life_! Well… besides pie, but close!"

As expected, Sam and Harry stared at him, both of them with the same deadpan expression on their face. Dean just continued to eat, making happy sounds and flashing them content smiles between bites. Sam rolled his eyes and shared a look with Harry.

"Typical Dean," Sam muttered.

Harry laughed and dug into his sandwich with gusto, finding it surprisingly delicious. Not as good as what the cooks were able to prepare back at Orhalian, but damn good nonetheless.

Once Harry finished eating, he looked up to find Sam and Dean watching him with a focus that was almost scary. "What?" Harry asked, wiping his face to make sure that he had gotten any and all mayonnaise off his face.

After quick glances, Sam was once again designated as the speaker. "Harry… Listen. We think that you'll be safer if you stay here. With Bobby." Harry blinked, uncomprehending. Sam sighed and elaborated, "Not that we don't think you're strong enough—"

"We don't think you're strong enough," Dean admitted.

"—but we think it'd be best if you _didn't _join us when we… you know, track down the yellow-eyed demon," Sam finished, watching Harry in concern for his reaction.

Harry allowed them to speak, his eyes unblinking as he stared at both of them in equal measure. "You don't think I'm strong enough?" Harry echoed, turning to Dean.

Dean shrugged, meeting Harry's gaze without hesitation. "Honestly? Yes."

A scoff left him before he could help it. "I could kill you both and everyone in this house in the blink of an eye… yet _you _two don't think I'm strong enough?"

Sam and Dean exchanged glances. "Yeah, sure, why not," Dean said.

"What Dean's _trying_ to say," Sam began, "is that you aren't _trained _to fight demons. We _are_, so it'd be best if you… stayed here. Where it's safe."

Harry shook his head, overcome with disbelief. "What is with everyone always trying to _protect_ me?" He turned a hard gaze on Dean, and if he had been able to stand on his own two feet without wobbling, he would have done so. "Listen, I know you don't want me getting hurt, but despite popular belief, I'm a big boy; I can take care of myself!"

Dean snorted and gave him an obvious once over. "I don't think so, short stuff."

"What's with all these jokes about my size?" Harry couldn't help but ask. "Are you _that _happy to not be the shortest person in the room? Besides, I'm _large _where it matters most." Dean gaped and Sam tried without results to hold back his sputtering laughter. Harry continued on, ignoring them both. "I admit, I didn't know how to fight demon's before, but I can _learn, _right? Not the hunter way, but _my _way."

"You tried your way," Dean pointed out, his face still a little red from Harry's earlier comment. "A lot of good that did you."

Harry sneered. "You're right, but I'm not as naïve as I was then." Dean scoffed, but again he was ignored. "I have a better understanding of my power now. With time, I—"

"We don't _have _time," Dean denied, shaking his head. "We need to hop on that demon's ass while the trail is hot. If we wait, who knows when it'll show up again."

Sam sighed and nodded. "Dean's right, Harry. We have to go after the demon _now_, before it's too late."

"I won't stay here," Harry growled, feeling himself being backed into a corner. "I _did not _come to America to be babysat while everyone went out and solved my problems—and before you say it, that yellow-eyed bastard is connected to me _someway_ and I intend to find out how!"

The stubborn set of Dean's jaw was all it took for Harry to realize the man would not be moved. "That's all well and good," the shorter hunter said, "but how exactly do you expect to get close enough to the demon to work your mojo when you can't even stand on your own two feet?"

Harry didn't have a response for that. He couldn't request that they wait on him to recover, not after they said that time was of the essence.

"I won't let you go alone," Harry tried again, knowing that he was being stubborn and unreasonable.

Dean rolled his eyes, patience at its limit. "Harry—"

"Don't bother."

They all turned toward the doorway in surprise, having not known anyway was listening in on their conversation. There stood none other than John Winchester, a frown on his face and arms crossed over his chest. He gave a hesitant nod in Harry's direction before turning toward his sons. "Like I said, don't bother."

Sam was the first to get over his shock and frowned at his father in confusion. "What do you mean?"

John sighed, his face pinched. Despite his age, Harry had never thought of John as 'old' until this moment. Instead of a proud hunter, what stood before them was a tired man who wanted nothing more than for everything to just be _over_. "The demon's disappeared," John explained, "all the signs, they just stop."

Sam exchanged a meaningful look with his brother, a spark igniting in his eye. "What if it's dead?"

"What?" John frowned.

The look in Sam's eye intensified, a smile on his face as he looked around the room at all of them. "When you were possessed in Jefferson City, the demon—there was this _light _and then the demon was gone."

Dean looked far from convinced by Sam's explanation, and the expression was mirrored by their father as well. "You think that killed it?" John asked.

Harry, however, was curious about another part of what Sam mentioned. "A white light…?"

They all looked toward him, as if having forgotten that he was even in the room. Harry rolled his eyes, hating how unimposing and forgettable he seemed to be. Dean nodded, his hand going to his chest.

"Yeah, a light… I think it came from my amulet." Dean reached into his shirt and revealed the small golden pendent for all to see. "It glowed hot, like it was on fire, and then…" He trailed off into a hopeless shrug, shaking his head.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he stared down at the amulet, feeling something from it which he had previously assumed came from Dean himself. "Dean, can I see that?"

Dean jerked, his gaze switching from Harry and then back down to the amulet. He hesitated for several long moments, then, as if coming to a decision, Dean gave a slow nod and removed the string containing the amulet from his neck. However, instead of placing it into Harry's outstretched palm, he leaned forward and placed the amulet around a confused Harry's neck, his fingertips lingering along the shorter man's shoulder before retreating.

Harry blinked up at Dean for a moment, lost in the emotion swirling through the other man's eyes. Before the moment could become too intense, a powerful cough made them break their gaze and turn toward the one who had made it. John Winchester was staring at them, an odd look on his face. Dean returned the look with a glare while Harry ducked his head, a little embarrassed to have been caught having a moment.

Giving a light cough of his own, Harry grasped the amulet around his neck with tender fingers and brought it closer to his face to examine.

"What's so special about that thing?" John asked, earning dual glares from his sons. Harry ignored them, his attention focused on the amulet which hummed with a familiar energy.

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated, running his fingers over the smooth grooves of the amulet and trying to pinpoint the feelings emanating from it. With a gasp, Harry's eyes snapped open and he stared down at the innocent looking charm.

"Harry?" Sam called, frowning in concern when Harry just continued to stare. Dean even went so far as to wave a hand before Harry's face, but the boy just continued to gape.

"Can I keep this?" Harry asked, looking up at Dean, his eyes flashing with excitement. Dean exchanged glances with his brother and Sam gave a sure nod. Turning back to him, Dean nodded as well, a smile on his face as Harry lit up with happiness. "Thank you!" There was total silence when Harry leaned forward and gave the man an innocent kiss on the cheek.

Dean's hand was on the area Harry kissed immediately, his eyes a little wide and a foreign emotion swimming in his eyes. Sam shook his head in amusement while John's face was blank, his back ramrod straight. Harry himself was too ecstatic over the charm he had been given to notice, his world narrowed down to just the trinket clutched in his hands.

John cleared his throat, gathering his son's attention. "Dean, we need to talk." His eyes darted over to Sam. "Alone."

Dean frowned, the lightness he had felt from Harry's kiss snuffed out. "No," he bit out, still wanting nothing to do with their father.

Instead of laying back and taking it as he had last time, a hard glint appeared in his father's eyes. "I gave you an _order_."

By now Harry had noticed the tense atmosphere of the room and looked between Dean and John, his eyebrows raised. Sam stared between them as well, indecision gnawing at him as the two entered a silent contest of will. Dean's jaw tensed, his teeth clenched together. He met his father's glare, a low simmering fire building in his chest. Just when he was about to tell the man to screw his orders, a light touch on his arm gave him pause.

His gaze swiveled down and Harry stared up at him, a hesitant look on his face. "He's your father, Dean…"

It was like a slap to the face, those harmless words coming from Harry. The main reason Dean was so upset was because their father could have tried _harder_—not just in resisting the demon, but in life in _general_.

Dean stared into Harry's eyes and came unto a startling realization; Harry didn't blame their father. He may have resented the man, yes, but he forgave him for not trying harder to resist the demon. He forgave the man for having a small part of himself that _had_ wanted to kill Harry. And if Harry could do all that, then…

Still looking into Harry's eyes, Dean responded, "Yes sir." His father was watching them interact once again his face blank but with a dark look in his eye.

**o0o**

"Dean… Son, listen…" John drew in a deep breath and stared at his son, face uncertain. "I don't—I don't know what's going on between you and that… that _boy_, but I want you to know, I would _never _do anything to hurt you."

Dean sighed, staring out at all of the cars littered about Bobby's yard. It was night out now, and the stars twinkled in the sky, uncaring of everything going on down in the world below. "Yes sir," Dean said, voice listless as his breath misted in the air. Winter was growing nearer, and as such, there was a slight chill to the wind.

"Dean—"

"I know dad," Dean snapped. "…I know. Just drop it, okay?" Normally he would never be so short with his father, and if this had been even a month ago, he would have expected a severe verbal lashing for his disrespect. But as things stood now, his father nodded, resigned.

"Can I at least ask what's going on between you two?"

Dean didn't even need his father to elaborate; he knew without a doubt the man meant him and Harry. But, that was the thing—how could he answer is father's questions when even he _himself _didn't know what was going on between them? "I don't know," he admitted, releasing another sigh.

"Dean," his father growled, his tone of voice implying he wanted the truth.

"I don't," Dean barked, turning away from his father and kicking a spare car part lying on the ground. The metal object sailed off the ground and crashed into an old car with a solid _thunk_. "He's… a friend." Dean spoke slow, as if testing his own words and finding them lacking. "No, Harry's more than that. He's… he's family dad; he's family."

Dean didn't turn to face his father, but the startled gasp told enough. Heavy footsteps sounded behind him and Dean turned, his father standing only meters away. "Family?" John asked, his disbelief evident in both his face and posture.

"Yeah," Dean shrugged, his shoulders feeling light after his admission. A small smile played on his face and he said with more confidence, "Harry's family."

John paused, something in his eyes changing and he blinked once, taking a step back. "I see," he said at length, running a tired hand along his face. "So, are you two… together?"

"What?" Dean choked, staring at his father in surprise. Thankfully, the darkness managed to hide the flush creeping across his nose. He coughed, plastering a disbelieving look on his face. "Me and Harry? _Together? _Come on! He's a _guy_." His father's deadpan stare didn't waver. "…I like chicks," Dean tacked on, for good measure.

John didn't speak for several moments. "Okay, son," he said at last, tilting his head. "I was just… worried."

Dean turned away from his father's imploring eyes, not wanting the man to see how his face twisted in displeasure. "You don't have to worry, dad," he whispered.

His father gave a nod that went unseen before walking away. Dean listened and made sure that his father was once more in the house before breathing out a great heave. He and Harry…? His fingers reached for his familiar necklace, but he touched only his neck. It was in Harry's possession, and it had been he who had given it to the smaller man.

Neither Harry nor his father knew how much that amulet meant to him, but Sam did. He hadn't once taken it off since it was given to him so many years ago, but he had allowed Harry to wear it and he trusted the man to keep it safe. It was as if… he was giving Harry a part of himself. It was cheesy, he knew, but that was what it was and Sam had seemed to understand that as well, even if Harry hadn't.

He told his father that he liked chicks, but he hadn't outright _denied _that he would be willing to... _do things_ with Harry. Yes, Harry didn't have the anatomy Dean sought after, but his brain and heart wanted Harry, and even his second brain was making Harry the exception to his 'chicks only' rule.

Dean wasn't gay, that much he knew. He liked females; he liked their curves, their smell _and _what lay between their legs. But he couldn't call himself straight either, not with Harry around. He was… hell; he didn't know _what _he was. If he had to put a word to it… it would have to be Harry-curious.

He chuckled as the name came to him, but it fit. He was Harry-curious, and he didn't find anything wrong with that.


	16. Dealing

_A/N: _Hello and welcome to another installment of King of Dae~! This chapter took a little while to finish and its still on the short side, but hopefully that won't take away any enjoyment.

Once again, this chapter is beta'd by **StarAngel Caelum SunSoar **so you know who to throw roses to.

Anywho, after reading, leave me a little review telling me watcha think, alrighty? Now then, enjoy the chapter~!

**o0o**

"So, how long are we staying here?" Harry asked, playing with the new amulet he wore around his neck.

He, Sam and Dean all gathered in Bobby's kitchen, Sam with a book in front of him and Dean leaning against a counter. Harry sat at the table, his legs too much like jello to do much else.

Sam looked up from the book he was reading, a speculative frown on his face. "Just until you're healed up, I guess." He looked to his brother for guidance and Dean gave a nod.

"Yeah," Dean said, "then we'll pack up and do what was do best: hunt and kill evil sons of bitches." Harry gave him a flat stare and Dean added on, "Evil sons of bitches that, of course, have _no _relation to you." Appeased, Harry awarded him with a smile.

"Dude, you're so whipped," Sam muttered loud enough for Dean to hear. He gave a cry of pain when his brother smacked him on the back of the head. When he turned to glare, Dean was the picture of innocence, staring up at something on the ceiling.

Harry chuckled. It always amused him to see just how close the brothers were. They would do well with their own television show. "So," Harry began, drawing their attention before they could degenerate into a scuffling match, "I told you my life story. You guys going to tell me yours?"

"Nah," Dean said, waving the suggestion away, "you don't want to hear _that_."

"I think I do," Harry countered, raising an eyebrow.

"It's boring."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Dean sighed and again shared a look with his brother. Harry didn't see what the big deal was. It couldn't be much worse than what had happened during his life. "You want the Dean version, the Sammy version, or the Winchester version?" Dean asked, running a hand through his cropped hair.

Now _both _of Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Uh, the Winchester version… I guess?"

Dean nodded, adjusting his posture so that his fist rested under his chin. "I guess I'll start when I was four years old and little Sammy-Sam was still leaving surprises in his diaper." Harry laughed and Sam flushed, sending a glare at his brother. Dean just gave a charming grin in return. "It was a long time ago, but I still remember that night perfectly… My mom, she… she had this thing where she'd carry me into Sam's room to say goodnight." Dean trailed off with a fond smile, lost in memories long gone by. With a sigh he shook himself, a solemn look clouding his features. "Anyway, after saying goodnight to Sammy I was tucked into bed by Dad. I fell asleep, but I remember waking up… to the sound of our mom's screams."

Sam and Dean wore mirrored looks of mourning and Harry felt his heart clench, having a good idea of what happened next.

"I got out of bed and ran down the hallway to where I heard the sound coming from. I remember flames, and shouting and Dad putting Sam and my arms and telling me to just _run_. I carried Sam outside the house and just… _watched _as Sam's nursery was torched, our mother still in there." Mist began to develop in Dean's eyes. Sam stared, swallowing as his brother gave a quiet sniff. Harry wished he could go over and comfort them both, but he was confined to the chair and could only watch on in helplessness.

Dean inhaled and shook his head. "And that's it; after that you can guess the rest. It was hunting, hunting and more hunting. And here we are."

Harry gave a slow nod. He had a hunch that the "Sam" and "Dean" versions of their life story would be different—but he had a feeling that neither wanted to talk about it, not at the moment and not in front of the other. Maybe if Harry managed to get them alone… even then he wasn't so certain. They were beginning to trust and open up to him, but there was still a long way to go.

"We have more in common than I realized," Harry said, snapping the brother's from the haze they had fallen into.

"Yeah," Sam sighed. Dean remained silent, his eyes distant.

At that moment, Bobby walked in, eyeing all three of them. No doubt the man could read the fragile atmosphere, but thankfully he chose not to comment on it. "It's getting late," Bobby said, "what are you three gonna do about the sleepin arrangements?"

Harry frowned, turning to stare at Sam and Dean. That hadn't even occurred to him. "I'll take the couch," he offered.

Bobby snorted. "Nonsense. _Dean'll_ take the couch. You can take the guest bed."

Dead gawked. "Don't I get a say in this?" He was, of course, ignored.

"What about Alouran?" Harry asked, knowing that his friend was probably soaring around the salvage yard to work away some of his tension.

"_He_ can sleep outside," Bobby offered. Harry raised an eyebrow, knowing how much Alouran would enjoy _that_. "Fine," Bobby sighed, "if he's gonna be such a prima donna about it, I _guess _he can take the floor."

That was better, but Alouran would still no doubt whine. After that, it was decided that John would take the other guest bed that was no more than a hammock and Sam would sleep on the floor with a sleeping bag.

"Sorry for being such a bother," Harry sighed, knowing how much of a burden he and Alouran were being to not only Bobby, but Sam and Dean as well.

"Don't be an idjit," Bobby scoffed. "At least you've got _some _manners and common sense—unlike _these _two dunderheads." Sam and Dean appeared outraged, but Harry knew that Bobby wasn't serious—not completely anyway. His words were said with a fondness and the brother's indignant expressions soon turned into smiles. "I'm goin to bed. You three finish up your little slumber party and go to bed whenever."

There was a smattering of goodnights as Bobby left and Harry yawned, despite the short nap he had in the car and the _days _of sleep he had while comatose. Sam saw the action and smiled. "Tired?"

"A little," Harry admitted, his eyes drooping.

Sam chuckled and stood to his feet. "Come on, I'll carry you to bed."

"Hold on there, hotshot," Dean cut in, standing as well. "You got to carry Harry last time; this time it's _my _turn."

"I didn't know we were taking _turns_," Sam said, raising an unimpressed brow.

Dean shrugged. "And that was why your report card always read 'Doesn't play well with others.'"

Sam scoffed and would have no doubt come up with a retort of his own had Harry not spoke up first, "Are you guys… _fighting_ over me?" Sam smiled and turned to his gaping brother.

"Yeah Dean, are you _fighting _over Harry?" It was said with a smile intended to incite and the small action served its purpose.

"No," Dean groused, "I was just _tellin _little Sammy here that he can sit his tush back down in front of his old dusty book because _I _am takin you to bed." Sam glared and Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Bugger me; I'll be so bloody happy when I can walk again."

"Has anyone ever told you that you are _very _British?" Dean asked with a smile. Harry stared, deadpan. "Okay, just humor a guy, will you?"

"Fine," Harry bit out. He actually enjoyed letting himself be carried around, perhaps a bit more than he should, but he knew it wasn't a good idea to let those two know that. It gave him a chance to be close to them physically and he would take any such opportunity that he could. Still, he had to put on a show of resistance—he had his pride, after all.

Dean jumped in Sam's face, as if he had won something, before walking over to Harry and lifting him, once again without the slightest effort, into his arms. Harry threw his arms around Dean's neck to balance himself, throwing a final goodnight to Sam over the man's shoulder.

As they walked, Harry rested his head in the crook of Dean's neck, taking in the tantalizing scent of whatever cologne he wore. It wasn't overpowering like most were and just underneath that was a smell that was purely _Dean_—something masculine and raw, and before Harry knew it, he was nosing Dean's neck.

They had paused in the hallway with Dean's breath hitching, his hold on Harry tightening. The feel of Harry in his arms and Harry's breath ghosting over his neck was rather _intimate_ and he found his body reacting accordingly. "H-Harry," Dean breathed when Harry's lips brushed along his collarbone.

Harry jerked, the pleasant fog that had been sliding over him breaking. "Sorry," he muttered, once again burying his face into Dean's neck, only this time in embarrassment.

Dean gave a rumbling chuckle which Harry felt throughout his body as they resumed walking toward their destination. "Don't worry about it," he assured him, resting the urge to ruffle Harry's hair. He wanted to say more, but the words lodged in his throat and he swallowed them down with effort, a single sigh escaping him.

When they reached Bobby's guest room, the lights were already out and the room was clocked in darkness, the only light coming from a window next to the bed. Dean walked Harry over to the bed and sat him down gently, the smaller man releasing a breath as he sank into the sheets.

"Dean?" Harry called before the man could leave the room.

"Yeah?"

"Do you really think the yellow-eyed demon is dead?"

Dean sighed and ran a hand along his face. "Honestly…? No. Now go to sleep."

Harry gave a quiet sound of confirmation and Dean turned to walk away. "Dean?"

"What?" Dean asked, a bit of irritation creeping into his voice.

"Sorry…"

The apology caught Dean by surprise and he stilled, staring down at Harry in confusion. "What? Sorry for what?" When he got no response he trekked closer to the bed. "Harry?" The sound of even breathing touched his ears and Dean snorted. Harry had fallen asleep.

"Goodnight, Harry," Dean whispered, giving Harry a final warm look before turning and leaving the room.

**o0o**

The next morning found Harry awakening without hurry, the sounds and smells of a new day assaulting him. He was a little disoriented to find himself in such a foreign place, but the events of the previous day came back to him and he sighed, settling into the sheets.

From the smells, someone was already cooking breakfast and he could hear the almost silent creaks and thumps as people milled about the house. A peek outside the window showed that the sun was beginning its ascent into the sky, but Harry couldn't find a clock to give him the time.

Yawning, Harry threw his legs over the side of the bed and stared down at his legs. If his previous tiredness was anything to go by, his magic should have done its job and healed his wounds. A quick rub under his shirt told him that all that remained of his unpleasant torture were thick welts which would disappear into scars with time. His body felt more energized as well, so he would no longer need to be carried about. He wasn't yet sure if he was happy about that or not.

Harry stood to his feet, and after making sure that he could indeed walk, he followed his nose to the smells that were wafting from the kitchen. When he arrived at the doorway he paused, a grimace crossing his face in a flash. Bobby was busy at the stove, answering his question as to who was the cook, but the lone occupant at the table was none other than John Winchester, a newspaper held out in front of him.

John looked up when he saw noticed him enter, his eyes narrowing. Regardless, the man gave a nod before returning to his paper. Harry sighed and stepped into the room, alerting Bobby to his presence.

"Harry," the grizzled hunter greeted. Harry snorted when he saw the frilly apron Bobby wore, but chose to remain silent lest he find himself on the end of the man's silver tongue. "Good to see you up and walkin."

"Thanks," Harry said, taking a step into the kitchen and once again hesitating. "Um, if you want, I'll help with breakfast."

Bobby turned to stare at him, his eyebrows disappearing underneath his cap. Harry shifted from one foot to the other, wondering if the offer was unappreciated. "You know," Bobby began, turning around long enough to flip a pancake, "in all of my years feedin this ungrateful family, never _once _have they offered to help me make breakfast." Bobby glared at John and the man just shrugged, unconcerned.

Harry snorted out a laugh and walked over to hunter, taking in all the ingredients and piecing together what he was trying to make. "Well, I actually _like _cooking, and I'd feel like a burden if I didn't help out anyway I could."

The same had been true back at Orhalian as well. He always felt awkward knowing that servants were doing so much for him such as cooking, cleaning and laundry, so whenever he could he would take time out of his day to help out with chores. He enjoyed cooking the most, and working with Dark creatures opened up a host of new techniques for him to use in the kitchen.

"_Someone_ could learn from you," Bobby said, nodding. "Hand me that there, will you?" Harry plucked up the indicated instrument and handed into the man's waiting hand. "Thanks, _your majesty_." It was said in an almost sarcastic tone but Harry tensed all the same, staring at Bobby in shock. The man was watching him, his eyes glinting knowingly.

"You knew?" Harry asked, relaxing his posturing and continuing on as if Bobby hadn't said anything at all. He couldn't say he was surprised, but he hadn't expected the hunter to confront him about it.

Bobby snorted, checking on the eggs and adding ingredients without effort. "Yeah, it was exactly hard to figure out with even a _demon _callin you _King_."

Harry's lips quirked upward into a smile as he flipped another pancake while Bobby began mixing more batter into a bowl. "That was a dead giveaway," he mused, shaking his head. "So, what do you want to know?" He could feel John's stare burning into the back of his neck, but he didn't turn to face the man, even when he spoke.

"What do you want from my boys?" John asked, voice hard and brooking no argument.

"Only what they're willing to give me," Harry hedged, the prickling on the back of his neck intensifying.

Bobby sent them both frowns, muttering under his breath. Louder, he asked, "What are you doin in America? By your accent I'm guessin you're pretty far from home."

Harry stilled at that word… _home_. He had many home's growing up: the Dursleys, Hogwarts, Orhalian, and he had even felt at home with his brother. But with Sam and Dean, that was when he felt a true feeling of completeness, of being at peace, happy, and most of all _safe_. Wherever they were, that was where he knew home to be.

"I'm in America to take care of a problem," Harry said, disregarding the twin stares he felt boring into the side of his face. He didn't care what they thought and they could remain as suspicious as they liked, but the truth of the matter was, they were _part _of his problem. Sam and Dean were as well, but they appeared to be coming around, although they weren't quite there yet.

He was saved from any further question when Sam and Dean trudged in, Dean inhaling and smiling when the aromas hit his nose.

"Smells good," the shorter hunter said, sitting down and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Sam rolled his eyes and sat as well, watching as Harry moved around the kitchen with a strange finesse, despite being unused to his surroundings.

"Good morning, Harry," Sam called, smiling when Harry turned to grin at him.

"Morning, Sam. Morning to you too, Dean," Harry said without looking, getting a quiet grunt in return from the shorter of the brothers. The young King just chuckled, shaking his head.

In no time at all he and Bobby were finishing up and laid out a spread fit for a king consisting of eggs, bacon, hash browns and sausages. Dean's eyes grew wide as soon as he saw all of the food, a look of glee on his face. Sam just snorted at his brother as Harry and Bobby sat as well, all of them helping themselves to the food before them.

"Where's your little friend?" Bobby asked Harry, noticing that Alouran was missing. John appeared interested as well and Harry grinned.

"He's most likely still sleeping; he's mostly nocturnal, that one. Besides, he needs his _beauty _sleep."

Dean nibbled on a piece of bacon and hummed in delight. "This is actually _good_."

Bobby's eyes narrowed. "What's _that _supposed to mean?"

Harry and Sam both snorted when Dean started, realizing what he had said. "No, I mean—I just didn't know you and Harry were such good cooks." He gave his best smile, but it didn't hold long under Bobby's deadpan stare. The grizzled hunter returned to his food without response and Harry laughed, taking pity on Dean.

"Thank you, Dean, but I didn't do much; most of it was Bobby." Said hunter grumbled under his breath but accepted the compliment none the less. Harry grinned and stared at Sam. On his plate were just two pancakes that he was taking his time with. "Sam, you don't like it?"

Sam looked up in surprise, shaking his head. "No, it's not that, it's just—"

"Sammy here's a _vegetarian_," Dean cut in, demonstrating his disgust by taking a large bite of his sausage.

"I'm not a vegetarian," Sam glared. "I just… well, Jess…" Sam sighed and stared down at his plate. "Jess would always encourage me to eat healthy so I… try to watch what I eat."

A solemn silence seemed to descend upon to room. Harry gave a cough, the only one who appeared to be in the dark on the subject. "Who's Jess?"

"His girlfriend," Dean answered just as Sam said, "No one." The two exchanged glances and Sam sighed.

"She is—_was…_ my girlfriend." Sam's shoulders seemed to droop and everyone looked at him in sympathy. Harry didn't know Jess but he could tell the two had been close; he could also tell by everyone's reactions that Jess was no longer alive. "She was killed by the demon," Sam explained, confirming Harry's fears.

Harry bit his lip and nodded. "I see…" He didn't want to offer useless words of concern, because he knew how little they helped. In fact, he probably identified with Sam more than the man realized; someone important to him—many someone's in fact—had been taken from him, but this person, he had entertained thoughts of marrying her. He didn't know if it was the same with Sam yet he wanted the man to know that he _understood_. "I had a girl like that," Harry admitted, not meeting anyone's gaze when he heard all movement in the kitchen cease.

It was John who asked, "You _did_?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Harry chided, no humor in his voice. He gave a quiet sigh and closed his eye, the sight of flaming red hair and a fearless smile flashing behind his eyes. "Her name was Ginny and she was my best mate's sister. I don't know if you could say we ever dated, but… I think I wanted to marry her."

Sam drew in a shuddering breath and Harry stared up at him, a wan smile on his face. When he told his life story, he had skimmed over Ginny's importance to him, not wanting to make things more awkward and tense with such knowledge. Now, though…

Harry sighed.

His question had been answered; Sam had indeed been intending to marry Jess… that is, until she was snatched away from him. The world was a cruel place, and few knew that better than Harry—he had a hand in its creation after all, by-proxy at least.

"But, she was killed," Harry continued, closing his eyes as those dark flames of hatred began seeping forth. He couldn't lose control; not now. Alouran wasn't around to calm him and if he blanked out, there was no telling what he'd harm in his rage.

He didn't have to explain further. Sam and Dean would know that it had been Voldemort who had done it. They would also know that he had exacted his revenge, yet it had done nothing for the swirling pit in his heart.

Silence descended across the room and Harry sighed, feeling as if he had broken the peaceful atmosphere in his attempt to once more share a piece of himself. He took his plate and dumped the half-eaten contents into the trash before washing the plate and setting it aside.

"I think I need some air," he told them, getting various looks of concerns and nods. Releasing another sigh, Harry turned and walked out of the room, able to feel their burning stares until he disappeared from their sight.

Outside, the morning air was crisp and cool and Harry sucked it in as if he were drowning, releasing it all with one enormous breath. He didn't know what had possessed him to tell _all _of them about Ginny, but he had just wanted Sam to know that they weren't so different. That they had been through some of the same things in life and were able to relate in ways no one else could understand.

Yes, he still ached from the loss of Ginny, just as Sam still no doubt suffered from Jess, but he wanted to show the man that it _was _possible to move on. Ginny was and always would be his first love, nothing could ever change that—but that didn't mean he couldn't love again. That didn't mean that he had no chance of ever finding happiness… it just meant he had to work a little harder for it.

Bobby's dog, a lazy looking black Rottweiler, trudged past, growling as it did so. Harry watched the dog disappear with amusement, shaking his head. While he had a natural affinity with creatures of all sort, it seemed in exchange all regular animals were wary of him—which he guess would explain why his Aunt Marge's dog always tried to attack him.

Thinking of animals made him think of his own creatures, and the situation of the entire country. He still needed… _something_. Harry didn't know, but just waiting for it to fall into his lap wouldn't do. He would have to find his own path; that was what Geddy had told him.

Grasping the necklace Dean had given him, Harry stood to his feet, determination shining in his eyes. He would do it. He would stop wandering around waiting for answers that would not come. He would put his foot down and _change _things, diplomatically if allowed, and when not, by _force_. One thing Harry didn't want was to one day grow a big head and step outside his boundaries—or rather, the boundaries that he had set as Harry the Wizard. That would no longer do. He would have to step outside those limitations.

Since there was no clear path before him, he would carve it from nothing. He snorted. It was one of his abilities, after all, to bring about creation from nothing.

Resolve strengthened, Harry sat off to find somewhere he could train.

**o0o**

Breakfast continued on, John and Bobby settling into an obvious comfortableness once Harry was no longer present. Sam knew that their father was wary of Harry, but Bobby appeared to have been warming up to him, if only a little. Then again, Bobby was one of the more… paranoid hunters around, and it would be a while before he truly accepted Harry.

"So," John said, mere moments after Harry left the room, "I never got a chance to ask, but… how exactly did you boys get him out of his coma? I thought you said it wasn't natural?"

Sam frowned, staring down at his pancakes, his appetite long gone. He pushed the food away and sighed. "It wasn't."

Bobby and John waited for him to elaborate, but when it became apparent that he wouldn't Bobby scoffed. "Well then what'd you do? Don't tell me he just woke up on his own…" Dean cringed and Sam did as well, the movement not going unnoticed by either elder hunter. Bobby sighed and sat down his fork, shaking his head. "Alright, what did you two idjits do this time?"

"Nothin," Dean denied, a little _too_ quickly. John glared at him, his familiar military narrowing of eyes that said he was not in the mood for anything but the straight truth appearing on his face. Sucked in by that stare, Dean sat up a little straighter. "We… went to Missouri."

"And?" John pushed, knowing there was more to the story than either was willing to him.

"And she told us there was nothing she could do," Sam sighed, picking up his mug of coffee but not drinking.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Well obviously she did _somethin _if that kid is up and walkin again."

This time it was Dean who spoke, eyes clouded and gazing into the far corner of the room. "Harry's soul had been removed from his body," Dean explained, taking no notice of the shocked expressions he received. "We figured Missouri could put his soul back into his body and she agreed to try."

"Well? _Did _she?" Bobby asked, impatience lacing his every word.

Sam inclined his head but didn't answer the question. "She tried a sort of… séance, I guess," Sam said, shaking his head. "She said there was something blocking Harry's soul and she wanted to stop, but we—" He looked to his brother, hesitating. "—we managed to convince her to do it anyway…"

"Then why you boys look like someone just told you there's no toy in your Happy Meal?" Bobby snorted. "She managed to put his soul back, didn't she?"

"…Yeah," Dean said, "but she was roasted, Cajun style."

"Dean!" Sam cried, appearing a little green.

"You boy's aren't making any sense," John frowned, staring at them in equal measure. "Now tell me, _what _happened to Missouri."

The pair of brother's exchanged glances, lapsing into a tense silence. "She's dead, Dad," Sam told him, his voice quiet and feeble in the sudden silence. The sound of John's chair scraping against the floor was almost deafening as he stood to his feet, his eyes wide in shock.

"_What_?" John whispered, as if he hadn't heard them.

Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face, tired despite the night's rest he'd just awoken from. "She became the Human Torch from Fantastic Four, except without the flame resistance."

Even Bobby blinked, staring at him in shock. "_What_?"

"She burned alive," Sam explained, rubbing his eyes when the horrifying image began flashing behind his lids. "She just… burst into flames and turned into a pile of ashes."

John set down heavily in his seat, the chair creaking from the force. The man's face was blank, his eyes distant as he tried to comprehend what he had just been told. "She's… dead," he said, as if unable to believe the words coming from his own lips.

"How'd this happen?" Bobby asked, his voice quiet in respect for the departed.

Dean touched his naked chest, knowing he wouldn't find the amulet there. Even then, he didn't want to tell them about it or how he thought it had been God _himself who _had killed Missouri. Despite their line of work they think him crazy, even if by some miracle Sam backed him up. Instead, he shook his and stared down at the table. "We don't know."

Without another word John stood from the table and stormed off, the door closing with a bang behind him. Soon after, the sound of the trunk revving up could be heard as well as the squeal of tires. Most likely the man was going to go see for himself if the unfortunate news was true.

"Maybe we should be hittin the road as well," Dean said, standing with a tired sigh. Sam had been looking toward where their father had disappeared to but he looked up in confusion when Dean spoke. Bobby frowned as well, leaping to his feet.

"Now you wait just a damn minute," Bobby growled, causing Dean to pause in his tracks. "Your daddy may be a big idjit, but just because he's a lost cause doesn't mean I'm one too. You boys can stay here as long as you like; you're family."

Dean flashed him a rare smile, some of the fog leaving his eyes. "Thanks Bobby…"

Bobby nodded, turning his sincere gaze upon Sam as well. "Don't mention it, now sit down and eat your goddamn pancakes."

**o0o**

Harry lay panting in a clearing enclosed by cars, the cool autumn wind soothing his weathered and beaten body. His shirt was off and discarded onto a nearby truck, his chest heaving and the crisscrossing welts on his stomach shifting. He had been practicing for the last few hours, pushing the limits of what he was able to do with his powers and coming away pleased with the results. The size and weight of what he was able to create hadn't changed, but he had tried making different things with curious results. His attempt to create a simple ant hadn't gone as planned, and instead he'd created a raisin-looking monstrosity which he'd promptly wiped from existence, never to be recorded in the science books.

He wasn't yet strong enough to "play god" as they saying went, but he _had _managed to create an apple—a rather delicious looking one that gleamed red under the sun. The taste, however… had been another story.

A swooshing of wings and a metallic thump reached Harry's ears and he looked off to the side where Alouran touched down atop one of the broke down cars.

"Alouran," Harry greeted, too weak to do anything more than turn back up to stare at the sky. He heard Alouran leap from the vehicle and the soundof his boots kicking up dirt as he trekked closer. A dark shadow descended over him as the incubus peered down at his exhausted form.

"Harry," said Alouran in a dry tone. "I see you've been training your magic without me."

Harry forced out a small laugh. "No, I wasn't training my magic, Al. I was training something else."

Alouran sat down next to Harry and joined him in looking at the cloudless expanse above them. "Oh? Trying to build up a little muscle for your _boyfriends_?" The last word was said in a sort of singsong, causing Harry to snort.

"They're not my boyfriends." Harry would have rolled his eyes had he the energy. "…Not _yet_, at least. And no, I wasn't doing any physical training either."

"Eh?" Alouran stared down at him, head tilted. "Then what else could you have been doing that left you like… _this_." The incubus gestured to Harry, referring to his worn out condition.

Harry turned his head to look his best friend in the eye. "I've decided, Al. I've decided what I'm going to do about this whole America situation."

"And that is?"

With a grunt, Harry struggled to sit up and only accomplished it when Alouran placed a hand on his back, giving him a firm push. Sitting upright, a grin streaked across Harry's face, the sunlight reflecting off his determined gaze. "_You, _Al. I hereby nominate you as the new Dark Prime Minister of this great nation." Alouran floundered, his mouth open and eyes wide. Harry gave a quiet chuckle, a fond smile on his face. "Do you accept?"

"Me?" Alouran breathed, pointing to himself. Harry nodded. "The new… Dark Prime Minister of America?" Again, Harry nodded. Drawing in a deep breath, Alouran closed his eyes. When he opened them, his gaze was set and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Well of course my answer is—" He leapt forward, tackling Harry into a sudden hug. "—_yes_!"

Harry just laughed, pushing past his tiredness to wrap his own arms around Alouran. He rested his chin on Alouran's shoulder, letting himself be rocked. A flash crossed his vision and he turned, stiffening in Alouran's arms.

Dean stood there, his expression blank as he stared at them.


	17. Moving Forward

**A/N: **Well then, it seems like the farther along I get in this story, the more time its taking me to update. But, I actually have a good excuse! I've been doing some writing on a new story (of the SPN/HP persuasion), and if all goes according to plan (which it might not), it should be up in a week... maybe. Don't hold me to that.

Anyway~! Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait; tell me watcha think of it in a review!

**o0o**

"Dean!" Harry cried, untangling himself from Alouran's arms and trying to stagger to his feet. He was too exhausted to do even that and Alouran snaked a hand around his waist, letting himself be used as a crutch for Harry to stand on.

Harry didn't know what Dean was thinking, but he knew the sight he made clutching onto Alouran without a shirt. Even now he was pressed against Alouran, the incubus with one hand on his hip to keep him from falling. Harry bit his lips as he stared into Dean's eyes, hoping beyond hope that the man hadn't yet jumped to the wrong conclusion.

"Harry," Dean acknowledged, face blank and voice giving nothing away. His eyes flickered from Harry's face down to his naked and scarred chest then to Alouran and the arm wrapped around the shorter man's waist.

Alouran gave Dean a nod and easy smile, unbothered and uncaring of his innocent hold on Harry. "Dean! Meet your _new _Dark Prime Minister!" The incubus puffed out his chest in importance. Harry couldn't help but smile, amused by his friend's antics.

Dean appeared less than impressed, his eyes flashing when Alouran pressed Harry closer to his side. "That's nice," Dean dismissed, his voice developing a rumbling quality. He looked Harry dead in the eye and Harry frowned, finding no emotion there. "I just wanted to tell you that me and Sammy are leavin."

Harry's frown deepened, his forehead creasing as a cold sensation began to spread throughout his stomach. "Where are you going?" Dean didn't respond. "When will you be back…?" Again no response, and the coldness in his chest cemented into a block of ice that clogged his throat. "D-Dean?"

At last Dean's face changed, though not for the better. A single brow on his face lifted, his bland expression shifting to that of indifference. "Just keep doin what you were doin before you found us; befriend Dracula and Frankenstein and all your other little monster movie pals. Don't worry, we won't harm any of your '_children'_; we had a deal after all." Harry was seized by a sudden sense of alarm as he realized what Dean was saying. "Take care of my amulet…" he said, his eyes on the small pendent Harry wore, even without his shirt. With those final words of departure, Dean turned on his heel and made to walk away.

"Wait!" Harry cried taking a step away from Alouran and releasing a sound of frustration when his legs wobbled, the incubus forced to once more grab him to keep him from falling. Dean didn't pause, but his gate slowed the slightest bit. "Dammit Dean, fucking _wait_!"

That did it. The hunter stilled, his entire body tensing. Finally, he released a deep breath and turned, his arms folded across his chest and face guarded. "Alright, I stopped. Now what?"

"You bastard," Harry growled, stepping away from Alouran and refuting the incubus when he tried to steady him. His feet were like cotton underneath him and the slightest wind would knock him over. He took a hesitant step forward, not looking away from Dean's gaze and grimacing as his muscles screamed in protest. On the second step he stumbled, Dean jerking as if he'd rush forward to help but Harry caught himself, face drawn down in concentration. He looked up at Dean, panting from the effort it had cost him to take those simple two steps. "You bloody bastard," Harry said again, voice choking as heat began building behind his eyes.

Dean blinked, the concern he had shown just moments before becoming lost to the wind as anger took its place. "_I'm _the bastard?"

"Yes you freaking _prat_," Harry exploded, "you're the biggest bastard I've ever had the displeasure of knowing!" His vision blurred at the edges but he ignored it, shaking his head to concentrate.

The look on Dean's face was stony, as if his features had been carved from the finest granite. His eyes were no better, the hazel darkened to a stormy brown as he fought to control the warring emotions waging on inside him. "Well that works out just fine for everyone then, doesn't it?" Dean growled, his face twisted in displeasure. "You can just snuggle up to that trench coat wearin, Tom Cruise lookin _pretty boy _over there and let me and Sammy get on with our _lives_."

"First of all," Harry began, ignoring Alouran's squawk of outrage, "I don't even know who 'Tom Cruise' _is_. Secondly, you continue to show your lack of common sense _or _faith in me if you think… if you think for even a second I'd…" He trailed off, that prickling back in his eyes and a choked quality to his words. Dammit, _he _wasn't supposed to be the one hurting here! _He _hadn't done anything wrong! "Alouran is like a _brother _to me Dean—something I thought you'd understand since you have a brother of your own!"

"What?" Dean whispered, all of the fight seeming to leave him at Harry's pained words. "I thought…"

Harry let out a morbid chuckle, a small grin on his face. "That's just it, Dean. You _didn't _think. You were going to _abandon _me… over what? A _hug_?" Again, Harry laughed, an almost hysterical note to it. Dean's face shown with concern and guilt as he realized just how much he'd managed to screw things up.

"Harry, I…" Drawing in a deep breath, Dean took a step forward, Harry watching him as one would a rabid dog. When Harry didn't protest, Dean took another step nearer, watching the smaller man for any signs of hostility. When he was within arm's distance of him, Harry's face was a mask of wary confusion.

"What are you doing?" he mumbled, not protesting in the slightest when Dean reached forward and placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

Dean smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Look, Harry… I'm an idiot; I know that. I'm sorry, alright?"

"No," Harry choked out, shrugging off Dean's hand on his shoulder. He took a step backward, lowering his head so that his hair covered his eyes—not only so he didn't see the hurt spark in Dean's eyes but so the man couldn't see the tears gathering in his. "Sorry just won't cut it. You were going to _leave _me, Dean… Everyone… _everyone _I've ever known has left me… and now you…?" He shook his head, hating when he gave a pitiful sniff.

"F-Fuck," Dean whispered, again reaching for him. But this time Harry didn't let him, he jerked backward, the action alone causing a needle to burry itself in Dean's heart. Hand still reaching outward, Dean frowned, realizing just how _royally _he had managed to mess things up. It was easy to miss because of the confident veneer he showed to the world, but Harry was still fragile and certain matters still needed to be handled with care—especially things such as _abandonment._

How could he have _forgotten_? Harry had lost what was most dear to him on numerous occasions, and just when he was finding something to hold on to again, what did Dean do? He acted like his usual dickish self and managed to screw things up.

Dean lowered his hand, his eyes hooded as he took in Harry's small form. "Look, I know I was wrong and that sorry isn't good enough, but—I'm just not _good _at moments like this. Fuck, this is Sammy's territory. He'd just give you those big puppy dog eyes and you'd…" Harry still hadn't looked up from where he was staring, even when he pulled out the ace up his sleeve—Sam's puppy dog eyes.

"I think maybe we should separate for a while."

The quiet words spoken by Harry were like a gunshot to Dean's ears, except the pain caused by them was so much _worse_. Dean's eyes widened even as he felt his heart constricting, something inside of him _screaming _to stop this—to not let Harry go. "Harry, what—"

"It's what you wanted right?" Harry asked, looking up and trying to smile. But Dean looked past that, he looked into Harry's glistening emerald eyes and _knew _that this wasn't what the man wanted; then why…?

"No!" Dean growled, resting the urge to lash out. "I was being jealous and stupid! _No, _I don't want you to fucking _leave_! You were the one who got mad at me for this, and now you go and pull the same stunt? What the hell!"

Harry chuckled, his smile still in place even as Dean saw tears begin to gather on his lashes. "It's not like this is goodbye," he said. "It's just… till we meet again."

Dean gaped, staring as if Harry had grown another head. "So that's it? You're just gonna walk out on us? Me and Sammy?"

"Don't make me out to be the bad guy," Harry growled, his smile dropping. "I mean, _look _at us Dean! Here we are, arguing over a _stupid _misunderstanding when… when even _now _more Dark creatures are being slaughtered, and somewhere out there, that yellowed-eyed demon is gathering strength." Dean opened him out to retort but Harry cut him off.

"Don't deny it—you told me you think he's still alive and I think so too. And when he comes back—because he will—do you think he's gonna be happy? No. He'll want revenge. So don't you see Dean? We just don't have _time _for this; not when I have an entire country to fix and you have evil sons of bitches to kill." Harry laughed, but Dean didn't join in, his face contorted as his clenched his fists tight.

"So after we kill this demon and you… do whatever it is _you're _doing, then…?"

Harry sighed, giving a slight shake of his head. "I'm not a Seer, Dean, I can't say what's gonna happen down the road, but I _know _we'll see each other again soon—and then?" He gave a small grin, letting Dean's imagination fill in the rest. The hunter's eyes seemed to darken, a spark appearing in them.

Before Harry could react, Dean took two purposeful steps forward and grabbed the back of his neck, angling Harry's face upward. Then, their lips were connected and Harry released a quiet gasp of shock before relaxing into it. Dean felt a current of electricity flow through him, slanting his mouth against the smaller man's and letting his tongue trace along his lips. Harry shivered in his grip, a low moan breaking free of him as he parted his own lips, a hesitant tongue coming forth to brush against Dean's with gentle strokes. Dean gave an appreciative hum, and though he would like to take things further, _now _was not the time.

Sighing, Dean disconnected his lips from Harry's and rested their foreheads together, staring down into his soul mate's wide and glazed eyes. "I've been wanting to do that since we left that motel back in Manning," he admitted, chuckling.

Harry just blinked, still too overcome to do much else. "I've been _wanting _you to do that since I saw you in that clearing in Manning."

Dean drew back, an eyebrow raised. Harry smiled up at him and he laughed, shaking his head. "So," Dean began, his reluctance to part ways obvious, "are you going to say goodbye to Sammy?"

Biting his lip, Harry stared over his shoulder where Alouran stood, a large grin on his face where he had been watching without shame. With a roll of his eyes Harry once more stared forward and shook his head. "No… I don't… I don't think I'd be able to leave if I saw Sam."

"Ouch," Dean said, gripping his chest as though in pain. "Should I be offended?"

"You're cute," Harry smiled, "but you don't have the puppy dog eyes."

Dean chuckled. "Gee, _thanks_… but I understand. Those eyes are killer."

A pleasant atmosphere descended over the two, so at odds with the heated and tense argument they had been having mere minutes before. Neither wanted the moment to end, for when it did, it would truly be goodbye. In the end, it was Harry who sighed and took a step backward, a frown on his face as he stared at Dean.

"Well, I guess this is it," Harry said, his voice low. Dean nodded and Harry tried to smile, but it soon fell away. "So until next time?"

Dean cracked a small grin. "Until next time."

Still, Harry didn't want to leave and wracked his brain for reasons to draw out the conversation. "Tell Sam I'm sorry and that I wanted to say goodbye." Though Dean's expression showed how much he would enjoy _that_, he nodded. "Oh, and call me, alright?" He glared for good measure, knowing that to Dean such personal calls were a sort of taboo.

The hunter raised his arms in surrender, eyes light with amusement. "Don't worry; I'll call this time… _promise_."

"You better," Harry muttered, knowing that all had been said and that soon they would part ways. With a final smile, Dean saluted and Harry grinned, nodding. Dean turned and began walking away, his hands thrust deep into his jacket pockets.

As Harry watched him disappear behind a pile of cars he grasped the amulet worn around his neck in his hands, knowing that he would always have a piece of his soul mates with him, no matter how far apart they were. Alouran came to stand beside him, a comforting presence at his side.

"Am I making the right choice here, Al…?"

Alouran sighed and placed a hand on his bare shoulder. "I can't answer that, but no matter what you choose to do, I'll support you."

Nodding, Harry allowed himself to be supported by Alouran's arm, his previous weariness returning with a vengeance and making him woozy. "Good," he breathed, once he'd steadied himself. "Then let's get out of here."

"Where are we going?" Alouran asked, chuckling when Harry shivered and summoned his shirt to him to slip it over his head. Harry struggled to get his head through the piece of clothing but finally managed, cursing as he did so.

"To Luther and his coven," Harry said, smoothing down the shirt.

Alouran quirked an eyebrow. "…Why?"

"…I'll tell you once we get into town, alright? I _really _need to shower."

Laughing, Alouran agreed, but a single thought gave him pause. "Wait, are you recovered enough to Apparate?"

Harry grinned and stared up at him. "Nope! I guess this means you'll have to carry me."

"Why do I get the feeling you just want to fly?" Alouran asked, rolling his eyes. Either way, he smiled, his wings unfurling from behind his back to stretch out to their impressive full length. The wings absorbed all light that hit it, reflecting nothing. The leathery wings beat twice, creating a small gust of wind. Harry watched on, a large grin on his face.

"You're like, my best creation, you know that?"

Alouran chuckled, giving his friend a fanged grin. "Suck up; but yeah, it's true, I know. I _am _the greatest."

"And so modest too," Harry noted.

"Whatever, stinky, you just better hope I don't drop you midflight."

"If you drop me, just remember: I brought you into the world and I can damn well take you out." Alouran gaped a moment before breaking into loud laughter, Harry joining him mere moments later. That was one of the things Harry loved best about Alouran; he was always able to take his mind off of things and let him partake in a little fun.

But the things he went through to learn such an ability… It was something Harry didn't like to think about.

**o0o**

Dean's lips were still tingling when he returned to Bobby's house. Sam stood standing at the front porch, his eyes lighting upon spotting him. His gaze swiveled as he searched for something, a frown furrowing his brows upon not finding it. Dean was able to read the question of his brother's face without the man speaking and released a quiet sigh, his hand once more going to his lips.

"Dean?" Sam prompted, noticing how his brother seemed more reserved than usual. Instead of answering him, Dean brushed past his brother and headed into the house, Sam hot on his heels and calling at his back. "Dean, what are you doing? Where's Harry?"

"I'm packin," Dean said, ignoring the second question. They hadn't unpacked, so it was a simple matter of storing their guns back in their cases and making sure all of the necessary supplies where there before he strapped the large bag around his shoulder, now heading for the kitchen.

Sam followed behind him, his annoyance carrying through in his voice. "I _see _that. The question is, though, _why_?"

Inside the kitchen, Bobby sat at the kitchen table frowning down at a book but he looked up when Dean entered. The man eyes took in the sight of him with his bag around his shoulder and raised a curious eyebrow.

"Where the hell are you two off to?" Bobby asked, pushing aside his book and standing to his feet.

Dean inclined his head, a small smile on his face. "I know you said we could stay the night… but I feel we should move out earlier—those evil ghosties and things aren't gonna just kill themselves, you know?" Bobby's eyes narrowed.

"Where's that other one?"

A muscle in Dean's jaw clenched, but other than that he gave no outward reaction. Still, Bobby saw the small tick and his eyes became pinpricks that gleamed with more insight than should be allowed. "He's around," Dean hedged, avoiding the question. "Look, thanks for everything Bobby, but we have to get going." Dean turned to walk away, expecting Sam to once more follow him, but Bobby's cool voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Dean was facing forward, so his widening eyes and almost slack-jawed expression went unnoticed by Bobby, but Sam saw and his worry only spiked higher. It took several long moments to regain his composure—several long moments that perhaps spoke more than what he said aloud. "I don't know what you're talkin about," Dean lied, not turning around.

Bobby gave a snort and sat back down, the chair screeching across the floor. "I may be _a lot _of things, but _blind _ain't one of em." Dean released a morose sigh and Sam's stare switched between the two of them, uncomprehending of what was going on but a cold sensation gripping his insides nonetheless.

"Dean?" Sam asked, pinning his older brother with his stare.

Dean gave another sigh and ran a hand across his stubbled face, his eyes pained as he looked toward his brother. "Harry left," he admitted, his gaze drifting toward the floor. At first Sam didn't react, the words registering in his brain but not making any sense.

"What you mean he _left_?" Sam asked in a slow voice, a hard edge to his tone that made Dean wince. "Did he go to the store or—"

"No," Dean bit out, resisting the urge to growl. "He _left_, Sam. As in he's gone." Before Dean could even blink Sam turned on his heel and rushed out the door, this time it being Dean who chased after his younger brother. Sam sprinted toward the direction he had saw Dean appear from while calling Harry's name, Dean not far behind and calling _his _name.

Once he reached a circle of cars that Harry would have had to _climb _over to escape from, he spun in a useless circle, a desperate quality to his eyes as he searched for the man he was just beginning to know and develop feelings for. Dean was a little out of breath from all the cursing he had done while chasing his brother and glared, bent over with his hands on his knees as he tried to take in some much needed air. Sam turned to him with a glare, his eyes flashing for a moment in the light.

"Where's Harry?" Sam demanded.

Having recovered, Dean stood to his full height and shook his head. "He's _gone_, Sam, back to whatever it was he was doing before he met us."

Sam choked, his disbelief evident. "_What_? That doesn't… that doesn't make any _sense_. I mean, he didn't even say—" He broke off without warning, his eyes going wide. "…You let him go?" he whispered, eyes narrowing in accusation.

Dean couldn't stop the small wince and Sam caught it, his expression clouding even further. "I can't force him to stay!" Dean said by way of defense, his own ire raising. "What do you want me to do Sam, strap him to the Impala to make sure he's always around? He has a _life_, Sam—a life _outside _of us. He has a _mission_… And so do we."

Sam was left speechless by his brother's heated argument, all of the fire leaving his gaze to be replaced by only hurt. "…I get that… but… Why didn't he at least tell me he was leaving? I would have—"

"Tried to make him stay, just like me," Dean finished, a humorless grin on his face. "Dude, your puppy dog eyes are illegal in several states, Harry wouldn't have stood a chance." An amused quirk rose to his younger brother's lips and Dean sighed, relieved he had managed to cheer him up—if only for the moment.

"I guess I understand in a way," Sam said, turning to look up at the cloudless November sky. "I just wonder if we'll see him again…"

Dean snorted, drawing his brother's attention. "Of course we will!" Sam raised a brow of confusion and Dean elaborated, "The more we hunt, the more likely we are to run into one of his demon spawn. Now, what are we required to do if such an incident were to occur…?"

Sam's grin matched his brother, an amused twinkling in his eyes.

**o0o**

After having a much needed shower and a quick rest, Harry guided Alouran once more to Luther's coven where they were greeted with open arms. Dean had informed them of his condition while he had been in a coma, and their relief that he was well was reassuring. It was almost cute how they swarmed him afterwards, showing off their continued use of their abilities and how they were improving in leaps and bounds. It would still be a while yet before they _mastered_ their abilities, but they were well on their way and Harry admitted that he was quite proud.

However, after the pleasantries had come to an end Harry quieted all of the celebrating vampires—they used any excuse they could to have a party—so that he could tell them of the plan he had thought up. Soon the loud thump of the music was silenced and all the booze set aside, the vampires becoming serious in response to their own leader's demeanor.

Harry let his eyes rake over him, the love and devotion he felt to do his best for them almost overwhelming and reaffirming his desire to do everything in his power to help. That emotion filling him, Harry spoke.

"All of you gathered here know who I am and what my goal for being here is, so I shall forgo that. I'll admit, I haven't been in America long, but in my stint here I have yet to do a single thing—well, besides help out a group of amazing vampires, but that's beside the point." Said vampires grinned and puffed out their chest, causing Harry to roll his eyes in fondness. "However, just recently—yesterday in fact—I came to the decision that that just won't do. No matter how much I would love to travel across this great country and find every single one of my children possible… with the way things are, I just _can't_. There is, in essence, a seal over my powers and maybe even something over this entire country—so no, I decided I needed a new course of action." Smiling, Harry turned toward his best friend and the man returned the smile. "That's why I decided to make Alouran the new Dark Prime Minister of America!"

Instead of the smattering of applause and cheers as they had both expected, what they received instead were blanks stares, the vampires exchanging looks of confusion.

"Dark Prime Minister of _whaaat_?" Bo asked, articulate as always.

Harry sighed and ran a light hand through his hair, sharing an exasperated look with Alouran. "I'm sure you all know what a Prime Minister is, correct?" The vampires gave a slow nod. "I added the 'Dark' part for flavor, but you must agree that it gives the title a little… _oomph_, right?" Again, the vampires stared at each other but nodded, unsure if he were being serious or not.

"Don't worry," Alouran piped in, "he's from the Wizarding World—bad titles like that are everywhere."

"Shut up, you," Harry mock glared. "You know you like it. Anyway," he pressed on when Alouran grinned, "the 'of America' portion should be self-explanatory as well, and thus: the Dark Prime Minister of America!" Though it was obvious they didn't understand, the vampire's all nodded, nervous smiles on their faces.

Alouran rolled his eyes. "It means he's instilling a new government for all Dark creatures, one with me as the "president", if you will."

There was a collective _'ooh' _as the vampires head's bobbed, comprehension donning.

"Thank you," Harry said in a dry tone. Alouran gave him a cocky thumbs up. "As Alouran said, there is no government for the Dark in America, and as a result, there is no order. This is a _large _task we plan on undergoing here, and will no doubt be difficult; as a result, we will need members for our newfound government…" Harry's gaze settled on Luther, causing _all _eyes to turn toward him, the dark-haired vampire gaping.

"You want… me?" Luther asked, overwhelmed. Already he was shaking his head. "N-no, I couldn't…" Harry just gave him a gentle smile, a large number of his defenses breaking. His coven also began shouting encouragements, yet still indecision shined in the vampire's eyes. The killing blow came when Kate wrapped her arms around his neck and batted her eyelashes.

"Luther, honey, just think of all the changes you could make for vampires—for all Dark creatures in the entire _country_." The vampire considered the possibilities, his eyes glazing over as he tried to envision a world with no more hiding or fear of constant persecution—it was distant and hard to grasp on to, but he _saw _it, what little breath he didn't need leaving him. It was a pipe dream, something unrealistic and beyond his wildest dreams… and yet, there Harry stood, offering him a chance to bring about something that was thought of as being impossible.

"Fine," Luther said, a small grin on his face as his coven cheered. "I'm in—but it'll take more than just a small handful of people to set up a government won't it? Uhg… it been decades since I've opened a history book, how does shit like this even _work_?"

"Ah, ah, ah," Harry tsked, a large grin on his face. "You forget, I happen to be the _King of Dae_—I have memories of before you were in diapers." If the coven leader could have, he would have blushed. The rest of the vampires howled in laughter, but were quieted when Harry turned his raised eyebrows upon them. "But the point is, _everything _has a start—and this is ours. Yes, right now we only have a small group of people, but what is important is that we set up the foundations."

"Meaning?" Luther frowned.

Alouran stepped forward, an almost arrogant swagger to his gait. It was off put by his large grin. "_I _got this," he said and Harry raised his hands as if to say, _'be my guest.'_ " What I think our great and powerful leader here is trying to say is… he wants to create a town."

"_What_?" Luther exploded, his own shock mirrored by his coven. Harry nodded, allowing Alouran to explain in his place. This was for the best after all—Alouran was their Prime Minister, so they should learn to trust his insight and judgment. Although it was on rare day's he showed it, Alouran _was _a brilliant man and capable leader.

However… that hadn't always been the case. Like most things, experience came with making mistakes, and Alouran had made quite a few of those in his lifetime.

"Well, at this stage it's more like a settlement… or a colony," Alouran admitted, his arms crossed at his chest and head tilted. "Size isn't important—insert penis joke here—what's important is that we have somewhere for people to live… like this barn for example." Harry gave his friend a bland stare for his 'penis joke' comment, but let it slide.

"Dude, _what_?" Bo spoke up, shaking his head. "No! We are _not _moving out of here so _you_ can—"

"Who said anything about you moving?" Harry asked. Bo's mouth shut with a snap and Harry smiled, hoping to placate him. He didn't want to _force _his will onto them, but at the same time, if they were to have a beginning, a little persuading would be necessary.

Alouran nodded. "I didn't mean that you guys have to move; quite the opposite! I think it's time we did a little _remodeling_."

"Remodeling?" Luther parroted, looking around the barn. It had become their home over the few decades they had been living there, and they had grown to love its simplistic feel. Sure, it wasn't a mansion or even a seedy motel room, but it was _home_.

"Expansion!" Alouran agreed, throwing his arms to the side in an exaggerated manner. "This place needs to be _bigger_—like a hotel!"

"I thought we were making a _town_," Kate threw in, frowning. "_Not _some sort of resort…"

"Come on guys, keep up!" Alouran whined, sobering when Harry threw him a quick glance. The incubus gave a quiet cough. "I mean, yeah, it _will _become a town, but we can't make houses in a _day_. Well… Harry could, but he's just not _there _yet. So instead, we'll have to build them ourselves, and once we get new workers, they could live here and help with the building of our new town—we'll call it: Alourantopia!"

Harry snorted. Bo still had a displeased frown on his face. "I don't know man," he sighed. "That sounds like a lot of… _work_."

"Of course its work!" Alouran snapped.

"Come on guys," Luther stepped in, seeing the rebellious looks rising to his coven's face. "We all want this, right?" They gave unsure nods. "Well, if we do, we have to _work _for it."

"Rome wasn't built in a day," Harry tossed in for good measure.

"Fine," Bo huffed, a mulish expression on his face. "What else do we have to do?"

Alouran's grin was almost maniacal in appearance.

**o0o**

It had been three days since reconstruction began on the barn, and with a workforce that never needed sleep combined with a wizard capable of wandless magic, the results were progressing _far _faster then had they been a team of same numbered humans. They had to knock down both the east and west wall for more room to expand, and already they had run across their first problem: the forest.

Vampires could live anywhere, whether it be the forest or no, but some of the creatures who may one day come to live in the settlement might enjoy the forest, so Harry was reluctant to tear it down, even to further his own goals. In the end, Alouran convinced him to clear a few acres of land—"Harry, these trees branch off for _miles_! No one will miss them!"—and construction continued. At the pace they were going, they would have a hotel-like facility in less than two weeks, and then after that, they could began the "recruitment" process, and thanks to the little "deal" he had made with the Winchester family, well…

Ah! Speak of the devil. Harry was just on his way into town for supplies when his phone rang. It was impossible to get reception in the forest—that was something else to consider; would it be possible to install phone lines?—but he had set up a listening charm in his hotel room that allowed him to always hear what was going on, making it so that he would never miss a call. It could get a little annoying when the cleaning lady appeared, but that was a price he was willing to pay to make sure he would always know when the device Sam had given him went off.

With a quiet pop, Harry was back in his room and he rushed over to the bedside table to lift the ringing contraption in his hand. He hadn't spoken to Sam or Dean since he had parted from them—without even a goodbye to Sam. While he knew that it should be _he _who called them first, he just couldn't _bring _himself too, no matter how much he desired it. Now though, he stared down at the screen which read 'Sam' and felt his heart lurch in his chest.

Fingers quaking, he flipped the phone open and pressed the small talk button before holding it to his ear, his breath harsher than intended. "…Hello?" he asked, as if afraid the person on the other end were a terrifying monster.

"…Harry," Sam breathed, the sound of his own name flowing like water from the man's lip filling him with a warmth that spread throughout his entire body.

"Sam," Harry choked, throat clogged by the sudden overwhelming feelings of longing and regret he felt for leaving them. He knew they would see each other again—maybe even soon—and they could still talk through cell phones, but for one terrible moment he wished he didn't have such responsibilities that forced him to part from them. As quickly as it came he pushed the feeling away, giving his head a slight shake to clear it. He bit his lip as he waited for Sam to respond, but the only sound that met him was silence.

"Sam?" Harry asked.

"Yeah?"

"…I'm sorry." He waited with baited breath from Sam to respond, biting his lip to the point of almost drawing blood. At long last, Sam gave a tired sigh.

"I know Harry; it's okay."

Harry stared at the phone in confusion, his brow furrowed and bottom lip still being worried between his teeth. "No," he denied, his heart constricting. "No, Sam, it's _not _okay. I shouldn't have left without saying goodbye to you; it's—it's not fair…" Again, silence met his proclamation, his own worried face staring back at him from a mirror along the far wall.

"You're right," Sam agreed. "You _should _have said goodbye—Harry, I… That really hurt me…"

Harry's eyes closed in pain, feeling as if a knife had driven itself into his heart and twisted. "Sammy, I'm so sorry," he breathed. "I just… things became too much for me, and I ran away… I'm sorry; I never meant to hurt you."

He heard Sam draw in a deep breath and steeled himself for whatever rebuking words Sam had for him. "I understand," Sam said, making Harry still and blink in astonishment. "I don't blame you—I know what it's like to want to just… get away."

"Sam?"

"Never mind, it's not important," Sam sighed. "Anyway—that's not why I called."

Harry pressed his ear against the phone and listened as the man on the other end spoke. Once he reached the end of his story, his lips were pulled back in a snarl and he paced the length of his room in righteous agitation.

"Harry?" came Sam's concerned voice, causing him to stop. The sound of his soul mate's voice soothed his frazzled nerves and he drew in a deep breath, his anger still simmering just beneath the surface. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, trying to make his voice as calm as possible while he felt anything but. "You and Dean stay there; I need to talk to Alouran and Luther and then I'll be on my way."

"Luther? You're with the vampires?"

Harry's lip quirked up into a humorless smile. "Yeah, and I can just bet that they won't be too happy about this."

**o0o**

Sam hung up his cell phone with a sigh a rand a hand through his hair, his gaze drifting up toward the sky. It was cloudy in Red Lodge, Montana, blocking out the evening sun and casting an almost dreary shadow across the town. At the moment, that vague dampness of gloom described Sam's current state perfectly.

While he claimed to understand and accept Harry's sudden departure without so much as a goodbye, what hurt him the most was how it had only been _he _who hadn't received one—sure, Bobby hadn't either, but _Dean _had and that simple detail had his brain going in circles.

He and Dean had never discussed the relationship they had with Harry, but they acknowledged it on a subconscious level and accepted it. Sam was okay with the whole "sharing" thing; during their childhood, Dean had given up _everything _he ever had for him and even now, in a way he was still doing it by not putting up much of a fight with him also being with Harry. Their father had drilled it into his head to always put his brother first, and Sam was still unsure if he was okay with that or not.

But he had always assumed that in Harry's eyes, he and Dean were equal. He never seemed to favor _either _of them over the other—that is, until recently. Sam tried to convince himself that it didn't mean anything that his brother received a goodbye and he didn't; he was just being paranoid. Yet, he couldn't shake off the _hurt_—that somehow, Harry cared more about Dean than him and that one day they both would leave him behind.

Their father had already left, and the two people who were close to his heart were Harry and Dean. If they were to leave him too… he just didn't know _what _he would do. Sam hadn't even noticed he'd been walking until he stopped in front of the Impala, a stray ray of light piercing through the clouds to reflect off the metal and blind him.

He blinked multiple times and shook his head, pushing his emotions away into a little corner and climbing into the car. His brother was bobbing his head to the rock music playing from the speakers, but he turned it down and turned to his brother when the taller man entered.

"So?" Dean asked, quirking a brow.

Sam stared at him, his own eyebrows raised in confusion. "So what?"

"Harry?" Dean questioned, his face saying it should be obvious. "So what did he say? Is he comin or what?"

"Oh," Sam sighed, turning to look down at the dashboard. "Yeah, he's coming—and he said he's bringing that vampire with him. Luther."

Dean paused in turning the key in the ignition to stare at him in surprise. "_Luther_? He's bringin a _vampire _to a place where one shows up _dead_?" Sam shrugged, gazing out the window as the car rumbled to life and they pulled away from the police station they had gathered information in.

"I don't know, it makes sense in a way," Sam said. "I mean, vampires tend to travel in groups, so most likely there are more out there—and who better to find and talk to a vampire than _another _vampire?"

"Harry," Dean scoffed.

Sam gave a quiet chuckle, having to agree. The thing was, he _didn't _know why Harry was bringing Luther, or what the man could accomplish that Harry himself couldn't. Harry was not only better suited to talking to the demons, he was also capable of helping them deal with the one who had killed it—most likely another hunter. Before Sam could think too much on the subject, Dean shot a wary glance at the backseat through the rearview mirror.

"You don't think he's gonna pop into the back seat like he did last time, do you?"

Sam gave a snort of amusement at the memory. "I don't know—he might."

"I hope not," Dean grumbled, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "I damn near crashed last time, and if he makes me scratch my baby I swear to god I'll—" Sam gave a sudden cough.

Dean groaned, his eyes not straying away from the road. "He's behind me isn't he?" Sam just nodded, trying to hide his amusement and failing. Dean looked up into the review mirror and gave his most charming smile when he saw Harry and the black-haired vampire beside him. "Harry! I didn't hear you pop in."

Harry gave him a deadpan stare, a single brow raised. "I've been practicing. Now, what were you saying you were going to do to me?" Dean's expression turned into a leer and Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Never mind; I don't want to know after all." Dean pouted, causing Harry to give him a fond smile before he turned toward Sam, the smile slipping. Their eyes met, all amusement gone from both their gazes.

"Harry," Sam said, nodding. Harry bit his lip and nodded back, not knowing what else to do. Next, Sam twisted further in his seat to look back at the vampire sitting next to him. "Hello, uh… with all the commotion going on last time, we never introduced ourselves. I'm Sam, and this is my brother, Dean." He extended his hand to shake but the vampire just stared at it, his expression blank. A nervous smile on his face, Sam dropped his hand and shared a look with his brother.

"Luther, be nice," Harry sighed, an admonishing look on his face. "They're sorry for breaking into your home, stealing your possessions and trying to kill you and your family—aren't you boys?"

"O-Of course we are!" Sam blustered, unnerved by Harry's razor sharp smile. Dean was quick to agree, his head bobbing so hard Sam wondered how his neck didn't snap. Luther gave a deep chuckle, an amused curl to his lips.

"You have a tight leash on your pets I see," Luther mocked, throwing words at them that Dean has used on him once before. Dean's face began clouding in anger and Harry leaped forth to stop the no doubt ensuing argument.

"They're not my _pets_," Harry frowned, his tone of voice causing Luther to appear mollified. "They're my _soul mates_, and they're not bad people—really. If you all give each other a chance, I'm sure you'll all be friends."

Dean scoffed, still throwing heated glares at Luther as he drove and Sam frowned, unsure but willing to at least try. Luther gave an imperious sniff and turned to gaze out the window, ignoring both hunters with purpose. Harry just sighed and shook his head. It was going to be a long and tiresome hunt.


End file.
